New City, New Opportunities
by awelsh
Summary: Stiles has left the familiarity of Beacon Hills to attend New York University. In a new city with new friends, Stiles happens onto an old friend - of sorts - by chance.
1. Chapter 1

**My first attempt at writing a Fan Fiction so reviews and constructive criticism is welcome - be kind!  
The usual disclaimer crap applies, I do not own Teen Wolf blah blah blah.  
Rated M for a reason so if you're not into smut don't go past about Chapter 6!  
Hope you enjoy it.**

Stiles stumbled down the last two steps of the staircase in his apartment building in the West Village, cursing and trying to grab the bruising toe as he hopped to the door. A beefy blonde with an amused expression smirked as he held the thick wooden door open for Stiles, who looked down, completely embarrassed. He had only lived in the building for a week and all his neighbors already thought there was something wrong with this boy, they had never seen so many accidents - falling down the stairs, tripping over his own feet, walking into walls - Stiles had done them all. Stiles was amazed his dad could afford such a nice building, granted his apartment consisted of a joint living/kitchen area the size of his bedroom back home, and a tiny box room which was completely dominated from wall to wall by the huge double bed Stiles had brought down in his U-Haul, as well as a tiny bathroom that didn't even have a bath, but it was a beautiful building, a converted factory which had been made into large studio apartments before they were cut apart and made into smaller apartments. There were still a few dotted about the building, though.

Running slightly, Stiles quickly made his way down the street, weaving his lithe body in and out of the early morning commuters, a mixture of students - some looking as hurried as he did - typical arty looking West Village types with flowing skirts to match their hair and easels under their arms, and a few business types, impeccably suited from head to toe apart from their running shoes in place of usual smart black shoes. Stiles hardly looked at anyone, all he thought about was being late for class. He was at NYU, his first choice (in the back of his mind he had been having doubts as to whether he would get in, though his dad said he always knew his som would be attending such a good school - Dads had to say that kind of thing) and no way did he want to miss his first day. It was only registration week, were he would get a chance to meet some fellow students and the academics he'd be learning from, but still, it was an important day. What he really wanted was some friends - yeah it had been his choice to move across the country to get away from all the werewolf craziness he had been having back in California, but he missed his best friend, Scott. The last week had been spent practically alone unless you counted the takeout girl from Madame Wongs and the friendly guy behind the counter at his local store, a place where he often went to utilise his fake ID which Jackson, in an uncharacteristic act of kindness, had given him as a going away present.

"Shit sorry." Stiles apologized to the pretty brunette he had bumped into as he - luckily - made the subway. The carriage was overflowing and he found himself with an ancient woman in a floral dress and too much makeup pressed against his back, and his face bumping into the pole he was gripping in front with every jerk of the subway. At the next stop the woman behind him was replaced by a hugely muscled guy, probably in his twenties, and a similar looking guy who was obviously his friend crammed in on the opposite side of the pole Stiles was still clutching. In order to talk to his friend the guy behind Stiles turned around, and due to the tiny space that the hundreds of strangers were crammed into he was pressed almost completely against Stiles' back, his muscular chest touching his back and his crotch grazing against his ass when the train jolted. The guy in front of him was almost as close, mercifully kept at bay by the pole, though it didn't stop Stiles from staring at his strong, square, lightly stubbled jaw, or his high cheekbones and startlingly bright blue eyes. As the two friends laughed with each other, hardly noticing the boy in between them, Stiles felt a familiar stirring in his crotch, enhanced every time the bulge of the Adonis behind him grazed his ass. He was trying his best not to gyrate against the man behind him - he had to remember where he was! He couldn't help but feel self-conscious, the bulge in his jeans was growing quickly, especially when he looked up at the guy in front of him, or more specifically the guys magnificently sculpted chest, which was hardly contained in a tight grey t shirt. Moving his back pack, which had been hanging over his left arm, round to the front to try and hide his arousal resulted in almost taking the guy in front out, who looked down at Stiles and flashed him a forgiving smile. Stiles blushed beet red, pulling the bag quickly round. Now that the guy had noticed him Stiles could feel his eyes glancing down every once in a while, his eyes roaming over Stiles.

"Hey - it's okay about the bag." The guy smiled, cocking his head to the side and trying to catch Stiles attention - who thought he was still talking to his friend. "Hey!?" The guy grabbed Stiles' arm to attract his attention, surreptitiously squeezing Stiles' bicep, which while nowhere near as developed as this gym-hounds were, were quite decent - he did play lacrosse after all.

"Wh- what?" Stiles asked nervously, thankful that his red face had cooled down - this blush could probably pass off as heat from the stifling carriage.

"The bag, don't worry. You don't have to look so embarrassed." He said, flashing a huge smile at him as he spoke. Stiles returned with his own half smile, looking into the mans eyes - he could hardly look away, this guy was the first real 'hot' guy he had been close to in New York. Sure the city was full of beautiful people, but it was full of _a lot _of ugly people too, seemed Stiles had only seen the latter, until now.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. It's just hot in here and I'm kind of in a tight spot." Stiles motioned to the huge guy behind him, who was now engaged in a conversation with an anorexic blonde, and to the guy himself.

"Yeah I know what you mean," he laughed, "I hate these trains sometimes, but every once in a while you get stuck next to someone cute." As the train jolted at the next station the guy was thrown off balance a little, and while he could have easily recovered, he leaned over with his left arm and wrapped it around Stiles' waist, as if to steady himself. Slightly startled, Stiles waited a beat for the arm to withdraw - when he found himself on four beats before the arm was back at the guys side he knew he wasn't imagining things.

"I've only been on once, this is my first week in the city, for school." Stiles explained, warming up to the guy now he knew his intentions, or at least he thought he knew them.

"Oh nice, I've been here about three years now. Best city in the world." He smiled another dazzling smile, the perfectly capped teeth gleaming. "You're gonna love it, do you know many people here?" He laughed as Stiles was knocked to the side by a stumbling passenger who looked almost as mortified as Stiles has earlier.

"No one." Stiles responded as he straightened himself up. "Hopefully I'll meet some people at school, registration week, you know."

"Oh shit I hate that week. Listen," the guy craned his neck as a voice ran through the train, stating the next stop, "if you don't have plans," he grabbed Stiles' hand without a trace of embarrassment, pulling a sharpie from his pocket, "call me later and meet up with us. Me and Carl -" he motioned to the wandering crotch behind Stiles "-and a few other friends are going out. You should come." His timing was perfect, as he wrote his last digit with a flourish the doors opened and he pushed through the press to the station awaiting him, flashing a last smile at Stiles as the doors closed.

Stiles was still flushed as he excited Spring St. Station, partly from the almost unbearable other worldly heat down there, and partly from the excitement of the guy from the tube. His number was written boldly across Stiles' hand and a little way up his arm, and looking at it made Stiles grin like an idiot. He had a ways to walk until he got to campus, but he didn't mind, he got to see more of New York and think about what tonight would be like, a New York night out! He prayed that his fake ID would get him served at wherever the hell they were going. Walking casually down the street (now that he had made his subway and wouldn't be late) he found himself thinking that New York was looking up after all. He had found the first week hard; being friendless in such a huge city wasn't exactly fun. Luckily he had been more than busy with all the unpacking, the purchasing of new stuff for his tiny apartment, and the nights of drinking and singing loudly in a drunk stupor before passing out and repeating the next day. He hadn't had time to actually see the city, so just walking down the streets on his way to school made him smile, jeez he was glad he hadn't missed that train.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry, that's the third time I've had an accident today." Stiles fumbled around on the floor, grabbing the scattered books he had knocked out of their owners arms when he had walked straight into her in his absent minded daze. As he reached for the last one he realized it was actually a pamphlet, a pamphlet for NYU.

"Watch where you're going asshole!" The girl shouted. Realizing it was an accident she calmed a little, smiling as she watched Stiles pick up her books.

"Here you go," he deposited the books into her open arms, "oh and this." He added the pamphlet from his other hand to the pile. "So your at NYU?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just heading there now, I need the air though, I was just on the worst subway." The two of them continued their walk down the street.

"Really? I think I might have been on there too, I was crammed in the middle of everyone." He didn't mention the fact that in the end he was rather glad he had been crammed in, it gave him a chance to meet that guy.

"Oh yeah? I hate the subway but I grew up with it." Flicking a strand of stray brown - almost black - hair out of her eyes, she scanned the street before walking across, Stiles still at her side. "Are you going to NYU?"

"Yeah, kind of nervous though, registration week and all. I grew up where I practically knew everyone, I always had my friends for a new day of school."

"Oh you'll get used to it, I grew up here and my parents must have sent me to fifteen schools all over the city. I'm Emily by the way."

"Stiles." He responded as they exchanged an awkward handshake. The conversation lulled for a second, almost becoming an awkward pause, before Stiles went into one of his rambling modes and began regaling her with his week so far, the new apartment, getting furniture, the convenience store, the singing. As the two reached the building where - coincidentally - they had their welcome meeting together, Stiles found himself once again beaming, today was so right.

Standing by the doors of an almost equally packed subway as the one he rode this morning, having just said goodbye to Emily, who had turned out to be the only person he had really gotten to know during the day and whose number was now stored in his phone, Stiles found his eyes dropping. the day had been exciting - well, some of it - but most of the registration had just been bullshit welcome meetings and endless talks about rules and regulations. He hadn't expected much, but he had expected more than he got. The day had been tiring though, walking from building to building, trying to get his bearings, and he was in need of a nap and something to eat.

Entering his building with a ready meal under his arm Stiles headed up the stairs to the sixth floor. There was an elevator, but it was in the north entrance, when it was quicker for him to use the south entrance which was closer to his subway stop and convenience store. A little out of breath by the time he reached the door, Stiles flopped onto the huge brown leather chair in the corner of the room that his dad had gave him, kicking off his shoes and dragging his socks over his feet, followed by his jeans and t shirt, dumping them all in the center of the room. The apartment was stiflingly hot, and he mentally thanked his dad again for insisting on checking out if the apartment had air conditioning. Hopping over to the kitchen, turning the air con onto medium on the way, he stabbed a few holes in the ready meal before throwing it into the microwave for three minutes. Plugging his iPod into the speaker he started a little dance around the room as he headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was a nice room - it was just small, all cream tiles covering the walls and floor, with low lights on the walls and brighter lights on the ceiling which he never turned on. Idly he wondered what it would be like to have sex with the muscle guy from the train in that shower, which was rammed up between two tiled walls, with a glass door separating it from the rest of the room. Shaking those thoughts from his head - saving them for later - he relieved himself and headed back to his ready meal. He stood by the window to eat, looking down at the shifting spots as people went about their day, he smiled to himself at the thought of how many of them had drinks planned with a beefy guy from the train who they had just met, he didn't guess high. As thoughts of the guy came back in an atmosphere where he wasn't imagining their bodies pressed together in a shower he went over to where his backpack was dumped on the floor and fished out his phone from the mess inside, putting his meal down on the arm of his one and only chair as he typed the numbers in.

"Hello?" The deep voice rang through the reciever, and Stiles almost hung up - he hadn't been nervous, but he definitely was now.

"Yeah hi, it's Stiles." Dead silence greeted him from the other side. "You know, from this morning, on the train?" He pulled the phone from his ear to check the guy hadn't hung up.

"Ohh, right yeah. How are you?" Relief washed over Stiles, he had thought the guy might have forgotten who he was, or given him the wrong number as some kind of joke.

"Yeah fine thanks, just seeing whats happening tonight, do you still want me to come for drinks?" Embarrasment washed over Stiles for a second, worrying that the guy had forgotten about inviting him; worrying that he might say he didn't want Stiles to come with him and his friends after all.

"Yeah definitely." The relief coursed through him. "We're meeting at this bar called Thirty Three at about 8, I'll send you the address, now that I have your number." Stiles could sense a smile on the other end of the phone.

"Okay, thanks, see you later." Stiles hung up before they reached that awkward repetition of bye between each other before one of them hung up. It was only three o'clock, so he headed to his bedroom, which was separated from the living room by a set of double, pane glass doors, which he always left open. Deciding on something better than sleep Stiles moved to the window and pulled across the thin white drape, it was almost transparent from this side, but he knew no one on the other side could see.

Laying himself down on the bed he removed his last item on clothing and stretched out, fully naked. Grabbing his growing length he closed his eyes and imaged all the things he could get up to with the guy. Jeez, the things he could do to him. As he fantasized about the guy, unbidden thoughts of a more familiar face came into his head, and the face of the guy turned to that of Derek Hale; a somewhat friend back in Beacon Hills. With a huge smile on his face, Stiles returned to the fantasy.

Four hours later Stiles began to stir from his perfect nap, not because he was ready to get up, merely because nature was calling. Stumbling naked to the bathroom - not a long walk - while rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Stiles looked in the mirror after he emptied his bladder and found himself coated in dried cum, some of it had reached as far as his chest, and a huge blob of the crusted white substance was spattered across his left nipple. With a glance to the digital clock between the two windows in the living room Stiles realized he only had an hour to get ready and get to the bar, so he quickly jumped in the shower, scrubbing himself and making sure all the dried cum was off, washing his crew cut hair with soap seen as he'd forgotten to buy shampoo. Looking down at his dick he was tempted to jerk off again - a shower fantasy with the guy from the subway, no... with Derek, would be good, but he knew he didn't have time; peering through the open bathroom door to the living room he could see it was already twenty past seven, he still didn't know where he was going, hopefully when he checked his phone he would see a text from the guy.

After a quick towel dry he headed into the living room naked, picking up his phone from its position; dumped on the chair.

_'Hey, we're meeting at 7:45 now, but we're gonna be there till about 9, so come anytime, just make sure its before then. Your phone has GPS right?' _Stiles clicked the link embedded into his phone and was taken to Google Maps, which pinpointed the bar, just a few blocks from his apartment. Tripping over his bean bag and landing on all fours with a curse, Stiles headed back to his bedroom, rubbing his grazed knees as he went. He hadn't done any laundry all week - he wasn't used to his dad not doing it for him, so he slipped on the jeans he had been wearing for the past three days but decided not to wear any of the dirty underwear which was piled by his bed, going commando seemed a cleaner option. By the time he found a clean t shirt - plain black - in one of the kitchen cupboards (he had unpacked a few things when drunk...) it was seven forty. A quick spritz of his deodorant and a transfer of his phone, wallet (which he made _sure _had his ID in) and keys brought him to seven fifty; he didn't know how on earth it had taken ten minutes.

Forgoing his usual half-run so he wasn't flushed when he arrived at the bar Stiles set off down the street in the humid half night. His street had quietened down, though it was still pretty busy with late shift workers returning home, or people headed for a night out like he was. Fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket he decided to text Emily and see if she wanted to join, the air seemed to have given him some clarity about this guy and about how awkward the night would be if these friends he was meeting didn't even like him.

_'Meeting some people at Thirty Three, wanna come?' _He typed, adding the Google map before sending. The humidity would have been as opressive as it was this morning were it not for the huge streets of shade from the low sun, its top half just peeking over the horizon, and Stiles found himself happy he was in the city, and happy with how his time here was going in general. He missed his house, his dads food, his dad himself, his best friend Scott, his school, but one thing he didn't miss was all the supernatural shit they had been dealing with. He needed to get away from all that, to a new city filled with well, not exactly normal people but close enough, and a new set of friends who weren't fucking wolves. He did miss one wolf in particular, _the _wolf, Derek. The memory of his jerk off session brought a smile to Stiles lips and a slight twinge in his jeans, he was going to have to keep that under control tonight, without any underwear to obscure his cock it would become noticeable very quickly.

Three Thirty was a 'trendy' bar in the Meatpacking District - or the West Village, depending on who you talked to, on Hudson Street, it was packed when Stiles sauntered towards it, the doorways and street outside packed with smokers. Squeezing through two girls in leather jackets Stiles emerged from the cloud of smoke into the bar itself, a large space with booths lining the walls and tables and chairs dotted around the bar, which was in the center of the room and tended by two men and two women. Standing there alone Stiles felt self conscious and out of place, his eyes scanning the room for the guy. To stop looking like an idiot stood there craning his neck Stiles headed to the bar for a drink, thankfully he wasn't ID'd, he didn't want the thing taken off him, and he turned around to scan the room again as the barman prepared him a vodka and coke - he asked for beer, but apparently they didn't sell anything in a bottle. It wasn't really his kind of bar, it had more of a club feel to it, but Stiles didn't mind as long as he got a look at those muscles again. Across the room, on the other side of the bar, Stiles noticed his type. He could only see the bottom of his face, one of the shelves loaded with bottles was blocking the top, but he had a look of Derek to him, with the slight stubble on his cheeks, the lips set in a permanent line, the prominent cheekbones and hard jaw. Before he could get a chance to adjust position to get a look at the guy he felt a tap on his shoulders, and forgot all about his type as he came face to face with the guy.

"Hey glad you made it, even if you are a bit late." The guy smiled, a little awkwardly, before embracing Stiles for just a few seconds more than was necessary. Stiles could have sworn he felt a hand at the top of his ass, but he passed it off as someone brushing past him.  
"Come meet my friends?" The guy asked, smiling his huge smile as he grabbed Stiles' shoulder and led him across the room. His friends were squashed together in a dark booth in the corner of the room, no wonder he hadn't seen them.  
"This is," he looked at Stiles as if searching for his name, "Stiles." The guy shouted, "that's right isn't it?" he added in an undertone, his lips brushing against Stiles' ear.

"Hi." Stiles said awkwardly, his lips clamping together in a smile that didn't really feel genuine, this didn't seem like his kind of crowd. He had always been friends with athletes, and while the guy still looked sexy in a white t shirt that strained around his biceps, his friends seemed to be decked out in an odd assortment of designer clothes mixed with vintage stuff in a gaudy amalgamation - Emily had warned him about these types as they ate lunch together in Washington Square Park, she had called them 'New Yorker wannabes without a clue' and had been as rude about them as she had been about most people; he had begun to understand why she was thrown out of fourteen schools.

"Squeeze in here." The guy said as he hopped in next to a thin girl with red hair, her eyes obscured by black sunglasses and a red sunhat over her hair.

"I can't fit on." Stiles laughed as he tried to get on next to him, half his body on, the other half threatening to tip him onto the floor.

"Here, I'll help." Pushing Stiles forward a little, the guy wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist, his hand resting below his rib cage, stopping him from dropping off the stool and letting him know he was definitely interested in Stiles. Stiles looked at him and smiled, he had started to think he was just imagining things - he had expected to meet gay guys in New York, it was one of the reasons he came, there weren't many back home, minus Danny - but now he knew this guy was after him.

After a few more vodkas Stiles began to feel a little drunk, and was joining in and laughing with the odd group at the booth, with the guys arm still firmly wrapped around his waist. Taking his glass Stiles downed it in three huge gulps, and, hoping he didn't seem too drunk, turned to the guy and planted his lips on his. For a second it was awkward, the guy hadn't been expecting it - oh he had wanted to, but here? - but after a few seconds he began responding, his lips locking with Stiles, their mouths opening a little, tongues darting out as they explored each other. It wasn't a long kiss, but Stiles couldn't contain his smile as he broke away, especially when he saw the huge smile on the guys face, his white teeth practically blinding Stiles.

Two hours later - they decided not to leave the bar - Stiles stumbled up from his seat for another drink, now totally and completely drunk. His journey to the bar was hazardous, he was accosted by another patron after he slipped and had to grab his chair for support, got lost somewhere between table 6 and 9 and ended up back where he started, and was hit on by a forty year old woman in six inch heels; he gently told her that she _really _wasn't his type.

"Hello?! Can I get a drink here or what?" Stiles widened his eyes at the barman, who ignored Stiles completely. Flopping his head onto the bar in his irritation Stiles muttered to himself about New York service, not really grasping that the barman didn't want to see this kid even more drunk than he already was. Opening his eyes and glancing around the bar from his position of his head laid on the counter, Stiles could see 'his type' again, in the same place as earlier. The waiter kept taking away his empty bottles, if not he would have been surrounded by at least twenty empty beers; the guy sure knew how to drink. He could only see the lower half of his face, but memories of his Derek fantasy brought thoughts of him back to his head - the guy definitely looked like him, well his jaw did. Lightly stubbled, with strong, defined bones and good teeth. There were many negatives to Stiles' inebriated state, but confidence was one of the perks. Picking up all his energy (he felt more like going to sleep than hitting on a guy, and wouldn't have bothered if he didn't look so Derek like) Stiles picked himself up and moved around the bar, approaching the back of his target.

"Hey listen, can you get me a drink? They won't serve me any more, what am I invisible?" Stiles had to lean in very close because of the music, the smell of the guys new leather jacket and the shampoo he had obviously used earlier today morphed into aphrodisiacs.

"Maybe that's because you're drunk as shit, Stiles." As the guy turned his head to him Stiles did a classic double take, the guy didn't just have a look of Derek to him, it _was _Derek.

"Derek?!" Stiles mouth practically hit the floor, and a blush covered his cheeks as he realized he was fantasizing about having sex with this guy just a few hours ago, and now he was hitting on him. Derek looked exactly as he remembered, if not better; true it had only been two weeks or so since he last saw him, but it felt more like months.

"Why are you so drunk?" Derek asked as he drained his beer, motioning to the bartender for another, acting as if it was the most normal thing in the world that they just happened to run into each other in a New York bar when Stiles thought Derek was still in California. The signal for another beer turned Stiles on even more, he loved Derek's confidence and authority.

"Shit Derek, I'm just having _fun_." He pouted, attempting to turn and walk away for dramatic flair, but failing miserably, falling over his own feet and crashing to the floor in a fit of laughter.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Stiles looked up and saw the guy in front of him, trying to help him up while staring at Derek as if it was his fault Stiles fell; which it kind of was in Stiles' twisted mind.

"Come on, I'll help you home." The guy held him up by the waist, looking warily at Derek who was staring back with narrowed eyes, assessing the situation.

"You know I don't even know your name." Stiles laughed as he pawed at the guys face, attempting to run his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, yeah, come on."

"What about Derek?" Stiles craned his neck, searching for Derek's stool, trying to find him. They were halfway across the bar now and the press was getting thicker with every step. Although drunk, Stiles didn't want to walk off without at least talking to Derek, after all it was a huge chance that they happened to meet here.

"Forget that guy, I thought you liked me?" The guy looked a little hurt, but not enough to stop his ascent up the few stairs to the door.

"No, get off man, I know him from home." Stiles' drunk euphoria was dimming as the minutes passed, especially as he wasn't in control of himself, he could hardly even move in the guys vice-like grip, not to mention the spinning head and the taste of bile in his mouth.

"Get off him, I'll take him." Derek was there in an instant, "unlike you I actually know the guy?"

"I'm goin' with Derek." Stiles' extracted himself from the guys arms, arms that had loosened up as soon as he saw the snarl on Derek's face. He stumbled and fell from one pair of muscular arms to another, though he liked these ones a lot more. Derek hauled him up as if he weighed nothing and marched him out of the bar, leaving the guy with a look of a lost lamb, alone in the middle of the room.

The cool night air made Stiles feel a little better, but he still felt as if he might vomit any second. The perks of Derek carrying him, aside from the obvious infatuation with the man, were that Derek, with his superhuman strength, could haul Stiles around as if he was a child, giving him more energy to focus on _not _throwing up all over him.

"Where do you live?" Derek asked, stopping at the street corner and realizing he didn't have a clue where to take Stiles. "Stiles?!" His shout jolted Stiles from his state of ambiance - he was so comfortable in Derek's arms.

"Huh?"

"Where do you live?" Stiles looked up and down the street, trying to remember how he got here. He knew _where _he lived, and how to get there, but he just couldn't remember the address or the directions in his state.

"Um - good question..." Stiles kept searching, but the motion of cars and taxis zooming by was making him feel sick. "I dunno." He laughed, resting his head on Derek's shoulder.

"God Stiles." He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Come on, you'll have to stay at my hotel." He set off down the street practically supporting Stiles' full weight, who giggled with every step, his head on Derek's shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is my first attempt at writing Fan Fiction so reviews/constructive criticism are more than welcome :)**

Waking up 6 hours later - he could never sleep much when he'd had a drink - Stiles found himself in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with a very disturbing, or very hot depending on what mood he looked at it with, sight next to him. Derek Hale was sprawled out on top of the covers next to him, naked if you didn't count the boxers. He was laid on his front, and every defined muscle of his back was tantalizingly close to Stiles, he almost reached out to touch him, but he dreaded to think what Derek would do if he woke up and found Stiles pawing at his back. Drawing a deep breath, Stiles contented himself with just looking for a second, looking at all the hard muscle on the man next to him, thoughts of him minus the boxers would not leave Stiles' head, they were completely the wrong kind of boxers for a fantasy too - shapeless, black, and loose. If they had been white Y-fronts it would have given him a clearer picture of the no doubt beautiful ass beneath the fabric. Stiles felt his member growing in his own shapeless, plaid boxers and realized he better get up pretty quickly if he didn't want to avoid embarrassment. Running to the bathroom in just his underwear - Derek must have stripped him - Stiles slammed the door and hurried to the toilet. The thought of jerking off quickly was tempting, but Stiles tended to be pretty vocal when he came, and that would be even more embarrassing than his hard on pressing into Derek's leg when he woke up.

Splashing water onto his face, Stiles cursed at the sound it was making. His head was throbbing, every noise was like a foghorn blasting in his ear, but he was determined to overcome it just to spend some time with Derek, that is if Derek wanted too. He had clearly spared no expense on the hotel room, or more accurately hotel suite. There was the bedroom from which Stiles had just woken, leading into a huge entrance room full of overstuffed chairs and chintzy coffee tables, which led to a living room decorated in a similar style to the entrance room. The entire suite was very un-Derek like, but it was pretty luxurious. Padding back into the bedroom Stiles moved to put on his t-shirt but found that it stunk really badly of booze, and sweat, and cigarettes. Derek's open suitcase seemed to offer a myriad of white and black t shirts, so he fished out the first one he saw and threw it on, shooting another look at the beautiful body of Derek as he headed to the living room. He turned the TV on - on a very low volume which could be passed off as being conscientious and not wanting to wake Derek but was more to help his headache - and sprawled out on the sofa in his boxers and Derek's white t shirt. He was watching the news with unseeing eyes, head throbbing, his body aching. He felt like the back end of a cab smash.

"Morning." Derek's grunt propelled him from his daze as he walked into the room rubbing sleep from his eyes and scratching his bare chest. He had put on some black jogging bottoms, but declined a t-shirt.

"Hey man, morning. Sorry about last night... think I was having a little too much fun." Stiles said with a half smile, hoping Derek wasn't angry with him. Angry Derek was someone Stiles did _not _like.

"Whatever. Did you sleep okay?" Derek asked as he extracted a water from a mini fridge, throwing one to Stiles too.

"Yeah, well enough. Thanks for letting me stay, but you could have just left me on the sofa, you know, if you felt uncomfortable with me in the bed or whatever, I mean not that I felt uncomfortable - well not comfortable, I mean I was _comfortable _and all, but not how it sounded, you know?" Derek looked at him with narrowed eyes, "Um - just thanks, I dunno how you feel about laying down with another guy, I never saw you as the sleepover type but hell what do I know? I mean we were kind of friends, well not friends, you scared me, but you know we got closer and all that..."

"_Stiles_." Derek cut through Stiles' rambling, which was becoming more unintelligible by the minute. Derek waited a few seconds before replying, as if fishing through the vast amount Stiles had blurted out, it felt like hours to Stiles, and he had to resist the urge to talk again just to fill the silence. "Uncomfortable? Why do I care? I would have slept on the sofa myself but it's too small." He shrugged, frowning at Stiles. The sofa was pretty small, especially for Derek's six foot frame.

"Well, thanks anyway." Stiles looked down awkwardly. Every time he looked at Derek his eyes flashed down to his chest, he was just so... hot - there was no other word for it. "What are you doing in New York? It's a great city, right? So glad I chose to come here for college." Stiles continued.

"Nothing much, I was just visiting, Beacon Hills is too much. I dunno, I'm thinking of staying."

"Staying? Like permanently?" Stiles asked, shocked. He didn't think Derek would ever leave that crap burnt down house in the forest.

"Yeah. I was gonna look you up, but I dunno - I just never got around to it. Kind of weird running into you last night." Derek raised his voice so he could be heard from the bedroom, where he was getting a t shirt.

"I know, I'm glad I did though." Stiles winced at his words, they could come across as pretty emotional for just running into a friend.

"Are you wearing my favorite shirt?" Derek asked as he returned to the living room with a black t shirt in his hand.

"Oh yeah, mine stunk, sorry." Stiles' eyes widened as he saw the glare on Derek's face, "Jeez calm down, it's just a shirt, you can have it, I don't care, well I'd prefer not to have to walk around the city naked, but you know if angry wolf-guy is gonna glare at me like that then I'll just take it off and run..."

"You can wear this one, that's the only shirt that fits me right." Derek held out the black t shirt for him as Stiles stood up and wiggled out of the white one. Standing there with his shirt off, Stiles thought he saw Derek's eyes light up a little, maybe even doing a little roaming across his body, but he passed it off as his own fantasy.

"Thanks." The t shirt didn't even look the same on Derek as it did on Stiles, it clung to every muscle on his body, whereas on Stiles it just fell down, flat and lifeless, hardly showing anything. The black one was even looser.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat? Or order something? I'm starving." Stiles asked, hoping Derek hadn't just brought him back to his hotel room because he didn't know where else to leave Stiles, hoping that he actually wanted to hang out with him. Those eyes roving over his body had pushed Stiles into a whole other land of hopeful.

"Yeah I could eat, let's go out though, the food here's not so good. I'll just jump in the shower." Stiles' mouth practically hit the floor as he thought of Derek in the shower, the temptation to jerk off came into his head again, but he knew there was no way he could. Maybe when he got his own shower. At least Derek had agreed to eat, it would be fun to spend more time with him - not just because he had a huge crush on him, but because they were friends from home, and how often did you run into a friend in a huge city thousands of miles away?

Forty five minutes later the two boys - though Derek was more of a man - were dressed and walking down a bustling 14th street, full of early morning commuters and jammed up early morning traffic, both dressed in all Derek's clothes. Stiles had thrown his own into the hotel laundry, at least it would give him an excuse to see Derek again, when he had to pick them up, and they were pretty comfortable, the thought that Derek wore this same underwear was just icing on the cake. Derek's leather clad arm kept brushing against his own because of how close they were - this was New York, sidewalk space was almost as high a premium as apartment space - and Stiles had to resist an urge to reach out and grab Derek's hand. He felt sick, the sound of the traffic, the clanging of shoes on the pavement, the voices of the commuters, they were all amplified in his head, and the light - oh the light - it felt like thousands of spotlights were pointed at him, blinding him. He stumbled a few times, hardly able to concentrate on where he was walking his hangover was so bad, but Derek always threw out a hand to steady him. It was all very un-Derek like. The chintzy hotel room he could accept, it was just a hotel, and even the letting him stay over, it wasn't like Derek was a bad guy, and there was nowhere else to take Stiles. But the agreeing to come to breakfast, borrowing him clothes, and helping him as he stumbled, now _those _were not Derek. He would have been more likely to grunt, snarl, and growl till Stiles left his hotel room, never to be seen again. Somehow Stiles couldn't really believe that Derek Hale had just mellowed out, and was now friendly, helpful, and co-operative.

"Where do you wanna go then? I seriously have to get inside soon before my head just implodes, or maybe even my whole body. You know I watched this documentary once about spontaneous combustion, and they said it was like supernatural stuff or like unknown causes but I seriously think it's just when people are so hungover that they can't go on with all this noise and light, their bodies just give up and they just have spontaneous combustion." Stiles looked up slightly at Derek, who had just a whisper of a smile on his hard set face as he listened to Stiles, that little hint of a smile on Derek was like a full, toothy smile for anyone else, and Stiles smiled himself just looking at it. "Look all these places are the same, lets just go down here." Stiles grabbed Derek's arm without realizing it as he turned down a side street, which was quieter than the last street but was still too much for him to handle. He didn't realize how tense Derek's arm was until they had passed through the crowd of people on the corner, but Derek didn't move to throw him off. Stiles would have liked to have held onto that arm for longer, but the air had been poisoned by tension - was it sexual tension or awkward tension? Stiles didn't know, of course he hoped it was the former, but he let go just in case.

"Here." Derek stopped outside a seedy looking diner, "I mean - how about here?" It was as if Derek was dragging out every word, grinding his teeth as he did. Was he trying to be... nice?

"Uh yeah sure, I did that pancake tour of America thing when I drove here in my stupid U-Haul, the journey took like three months but I am now a diner expert so I can teach you everything you need to know." Stiles smiled at Derek as they slid in a cherry-red booth, each on opposite sides of the table.

"What can I get you?" A bored looking waitress asked as she smacked gum around her mouth. Stiles could see Derek wincing at the sound, clearly his heightened wolf senses didn't mind blasting traffic but couldn't handle chewing gum.

"I need more food than I've ever ate," Stiles looked down the greasy menu, "so can I get some pancakes with extra syrup, some toast - don't scrimp on the butter - and a mushroom omelette, please. Oh and can I have two glasses of orange juice, one water, and a coffee." Stiles handed the menu to Derek, who was looking at him like he was an idiot. "What? I'm hungry."

"I'll just have some toast, coffee and orange juice." Derek said as he passed her back the menu, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"You're gonna starve to death, you have to keep up your strength, you know. Especially if you're gonna be running round the city doing all kinds of wolf stuff like biting people and making yourself a new pack. Oh god, you're not, are you? I can't handle worrying about wolves getting me at night, I have enough problems with muggers and prostitutes." Stiles looked at Derek genuinely, at first he had been joking, but he knew Derek, and he knew he liked having a pack to worship him.

"No, Stiles. I came here to get away from all that..." He was suddenly very interested in his napkin.

"Well don't spare me the details, come on Derek don't you have anything more to say than that?" Stiles was irritated at always being the one to speak, he wanted Derek to open up and tell him something for a change.

"I still don't know if I'm even gonna go back. It's New York, you know." Derek gestured out of the window, where an emaciated woman was picking food out of the trash. Stiles laughed.

"Yeah, can't beat it - the people are just great." He raised his eyebrows, looking at the woman on the street.

"You know what I mean, New York in general. I always loved it here, but I never got to visit as much as I liked. I just think I should get away from Beacon Hills and everything that's happening there." Derek took a hearty sip of his searing coffee, which the waitress had just brought over with all the rest of their drinks, "Scott can handle himself now, besides, all that supernatural shit is wearing down, I'm kind of... over it."

"Over it?" Stiles frowned. "How can you be _over it_? I mean, I get _how _you can be over it, it's tiring, I had to move across the country just to escape it. But if you move here don't come dragging your wolf problems with you, I mean it. I can't handle it any more, I'll have to transfer to London or something." He smiled to take the edge of his words before taking a bite of toast, but Derek knew he was serious.

"Don't worry Stiles, if I do move here no wolf problems will be following me. The problem is finding an apartment." Now that they had food in front of them, a buffer between awkward sections of the conversation, words between the two were flowing more easily. Derek gestured for another coffee. Stiles couldn't even sip his yet, it was too hot.

"You know, my buildings pretty nice. I mean, I dunno your financial situation, but if I can afford one I'm sure you can. It's not like you're used to the heart of luxury, you lived in a fucking burnt down house the last time I saw you." Stiles hoped Derek didn't take offence at his words, but they were true after all.

"My family left me a lot of money, Stiles. I just didn't want to leave that house." His mouth turned up at the left in a half smile. "Until now."

"Huh? Now? As in _now_?" Stiles had to close his mouth, he was reading way too much into it, and his mind was going off on a tangent that it should not be exploring.

"What?" Derek looked at him with a confused expression.

"Nothing." Laughing to overcome the awkwardness of the moment, Stiles shoveled pancakes into his mouth to stop him from speaking. Either there was still alcohol in his system or he was losing his mind - he hoped it was the first option. Derek Hale would not uproot his life to be with Stiles, the man was as straight as they came, he had been going out with that crazy Argent woman when he was younger, not that he'd been out with anyone since, well, as far as Stiles knew. They were just friends. Well, kind of friends.

"That was so good." Stretching out in his seat, legs extended under Dereks seat, head rested against the cherry-red upholstery of the booth, Stiles let out a groan. "How can food make you feel so much better? Imagine being anorexic, it would be the worst thing possible."

"Mm." Derek grunted in response, finishing his third coffee. Clearly the conversational breakthrough they had over breakfast had faded. Perhaps food was the key to unlocking Derek, though that sort of just sounded stupid. Stiles was engrossed in staring at Derek, who was texting someone, not looking at Stiles. He was such a good looking guy, and kind of nice once you got to know him, although Stiles hardly knew the man at all. He was blowing everything out of proportion, he just let him stay at his place, lent him clothes, and went for breakfast with him. It wasn't true love. His own phone vibrating in the pocket of Derek's jeans that he was wearing jolted him out of yet another day dream. He was really having a lot of those lately.

_'Sorry i didnt make it last night bet ur hungover. want to go for a walk? bored.' _It was Emily, Stiles smiled at how easy she was to get along with, he had never really been friends with girls before, in fact he had never really had that many friends other than Scott - sure he was friendly with a lot of people, but they weren't friends per-say. Emily had told him she never made any friends anywhere she went, everyone said she was stuck up. They were both amazed that they had managed to make a friend on the first day of college, especially seen as they didn't even meet on campus.

_'yeah ok just having breakfast. meet at central park lake in an hour?' _he typed back, hoping Derek didn't think he was leaving him. He knew it wasn't nice to Emily, but if Derek asked him to spend more time with her he'd definitely make up some excuse for Emily and stay with him.

"Derek." Stiles said, though he didn't seem to be getting through. "Derek?!"

"Huh?" Derek jolted out of his texting haze; his very own Stiles moment.

"Are you done?" Stiles said as he whacked a few notes onto the table to pay for his half, or his three quarters. He ate way more than Derek.

"Yeah, yeah." Derek put his own money on the table, securing it with an empty coffee cup. "Listen, I have to go meet my real estate agent, I hope you don't mind." He looked at him for a few seconds, his eyes softening.

"No it's fine, I'm going to meet a friend in the park anyway." Derek tensed at Stiles' words. "You okay?"

"Not that guy from last night? He seemed like a real tool." Derek glared at Stiles, as if willing him never to see the guy again. Stiles didn't think the guy was a tool at all, he had kissed Stiles and offered to take him home, but anyone paled in comparison to Derek, at least for Stiles they did.

"No, a friend from NYU." The tension on Derek's face still didn't abate. "Emily - her name's Emily. Jeez." Stiles patted Derek on the back, who immediately loosened up when he heard Emily's name. As they reached the corner running into 14th Street once more, the two of them turned to each other, stuck in an awkward stale mate. What was the appropriate goodbye? Stiles wouldn't have objected to a kiss, but one of those manly hugs seemed more appropriate - though that had it's drawbacks too, and what if Derek went for a handshake or something. It was odd to see Derek looking awkward, true he wasn't as bad as Stiles, who was fidgeting and playing with the string through the hood of Derek's navy blue hoody, but Derek still looked pretty awkward - maybe not to anyone who didn't know him, but Stiles knew he usually stood just a little straighter, and hardly ever had his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Well... see you around?" Derek said, his expression a mixture of his normal anger and perhaps even a slight hopefulness. Stiles' mouth opened and closed, sure he would see him around, well he definitely _hoped _he would, but what was he meant to say? _Yeah I want to spend more time with you because I think you're hot?_ It didn't work.

"Yeah - definitely. I mean, hopefully. If you're up for it that is. I'll call you." A blush spread across his face as he turned and practically ran up 14th Street, darting into the first subway he saw for protection from the eyes of Derek Hale, which he felt were following him down the street.  
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." Stiles chanted to himself, leaning back and hitting his head on the tiles. "Why are you so awkward?" He murmured to himself, hoping he hadn't scared away Derek forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Making his way to Central Park was more of a hassle than Stiles imagined. He had to switch lines several times; fell down several sets of underground stairs, as well as up a few sets; and felt like an idiot because he was so hot down here that he was sure his face was beet red. He wished Derek had invited him to do something instead of Emily, not that he didn't like Emily, she seemed nice so far, but Derek was more of a priority. He did kind of need some friends though. It would be pretty awkward if he had to call the guy from the bar back, so that wasn't an option. Emily was the only person in the city, besides Derek, that he knew. And Derek may not even be staying.

As he approached the lake (which was also much further inside the gigantic park than he had realised) he was out of breath and about forty five minutes late. He had text Emily to tell her he was still coming, but looking around he didn't see her anywhere in the throng of people. It was a pretty hot day, so Stiles took off Derek's jacket as he walked around on the grass, keeping his eyes out for Emily. All he saw was colour everywhere he looked, people in bright reds, greens, yellows, it kind of hurt his eyes with the hangover. Sitting under the shade of a huge oak tree for some respite from the sun, he text Emily to tell her where he was; well, he guessed where he was – at the lake under an oak tree. Hopefully there weren't too many oaks in this area of the park, and hopefully he was at the right lake; who knew there were so many? He laid his head back on the ground, using Derek's jacket as a make shift pillow, and tried to drown out the noise of the park with his own thoughts. Should he ask Derek if he felt some sort of tension too? It might only make things worse, especially if Derek didn't suspect that Stiles had any feelings above friendship for him, but the way he had looked at him when they were swapping t shirts, the way he tensed when it was possible Stiles was meeting the guy from the bar... Shit, it could just be some sort of Derek-thing, Stiles knew how weird he could be sometimes.

"Hi stranger, didn't think I'd ever find you in this crowd of idiots." Opening his eyes and craning his neck, he was greeted by a huge white smile; Emily stood over him.

"Hey, sorry I have the worst hangover, I was trying to drown out this noise and all this colour, it hurts my eyes." Stiles covered his eyes for effect, laughing slightly along with Emily.

"Good job I'm in all black then, I decided to take a stand against summer. It's my worst season, especially in New York." Emily flopped onto the ground next to him, her black skirt, which was lined underneath with a few layers of chiffon, rising around her as she sat. Long legs, covered with black tights, led down to her black and white patent brogue encased feet. She had on a practically see through vest top in the deepest red underneath an oversized black cardigan flecked with grey. A huge floppy black sun hat and circular black sunglasses adorned her head, and a thick black bracelet with gold insets finished her off. Fishing through her bag (also black) which she had thrown down next to her– Stiles could see it was Chanel – she got out a packet of Marlborough Reds and lit one up, as well as a green apple which she set down on the grass for later.

"You look um – pretty gothic Emily I've gotta say. Good though." He smiled to show he was just kidding, in all honesty he was glad she wasn't joining in with the summer phase, he liked summer sure, but so far in New York it had been awful, well the subway had been awful, and seen as that was his entire way of travel that was a pretty big factor. Emily smiled back, white teeth emerging from red coated lips.

"Good – I'm glad. I hate those fucking sun dresses. Who wants to tan any more? It's not the nineties." She threw her cigarette away and took a hearty bite out of her apple. "So how was your night? For me a hangover means a really good night, because I had so many drinks because I was having so much fun, or a re-e-e-ally bad night, because I had to block it out with so much tequila."

"The first I guess, I dunno. I went and met this guy that I met on the subway at this bar/club place, I dunno they said it was a bar but it definitely wasn't like bars back home in Beacon Hills, it was all like blue and pink with this really loud music and you know, I kind of like those down and dirty bars better you know? And -"

"Yeah I like those too." Emily laughed, "Sorry for interrupting, I can just see you're going on one of those rant things you do and I kind of want this to feel like a real conversation – you know, where you say something then I comment on it?" She laughed again, resting her head on Stiles' shoulder as she continued to eat. "Go on."

"Yeah um – oh right, it wasn't really my scene at all, so I just got drunk, especially because of the people I was with, I mean the guy was cute and everything and we kissed -" Stiles blushed.

"Go you." She replied dryly.

"- but then when I went to the bar again – and by this point I was falling all over and I was practically laid on the bar – I saw this guy and well, they wouldn't serve me -"

"Too drunk right? Happens to me all the time. Invest in a hip flask for when that part of the night comes."

" - so then I go over to this guy who I think looks like... well -" Stiles blushed again, glad that he wasn't staring face to face with Emily so she couldn't see his red face, he felt awkward talking about stuff like this with someone, he never had before, but this was a new city, and he was trying to change, to be more open.

"You thought he was cute?" She continued for him, unperturbed.

"Yeah. So I go over and ask him if he can buy a drink for me, more just to start a conversation with him really, and he turns round and it's this guy I knew from back home!" Stiles smiled at the memory, he knew how odd it was that he ran into Derek, but the more he thought about it the more it made him smile. Thank god he was so drunk really, or he never would have got the nerve up to walk across the bar and talk to him, and thus never found out it was Derek; never have slept in the same bed as him (even though he didn't remember it); never got to go to breakfast with him or spend any time with him.

"No shit?! That's what I love about this city. What happened?" She looked up at him quizzically, trying to figure out if Stiles was a slut or a romantic.

"Nothing, I mean I was so drunk that he tried to take me home, but I didn't remember my address, then I guess I passed out on the way home because the next thing I knew I was waking up in his hotel room."

"You dirty boy!" she lifted her head off his shoulder and turned to him, lowering her glasses and widening her eyes.

"Not like that! I mean, unless he raped me." Stiles laughed as Emily widened her eyes further, "Kidding! He's not even gay. Straight as they come, well I think so. I've been reading into things today, I think there's still vodka in my system."

"Reading into things how?" Emily asked, relaxing now she knew Stiles was kidding – it was always a little difficult trying to gage someone's humour – and putting her head back on his shoulder.

"Well like, these are all his clothes."

"Underwear?"

"His."

"That could be something, I dunno." She took off her hat to scratch her head, dark hair falling down her back. "I used to wear my boyfriends clothes all the time, but obviously he never wore mine, it's different with gay guys though, what else?" She waved her hand as if irritated with her own inability to interpret Derek's actions.

"Well when I woke up I put on his t-shirt, you know because mine was pretty nasty with the drink and sweat and all, and then he came in and asked to swap because that was his favourite, and when I took it off – I dunno, he kind of looked over my body, I think." Stiles frowned, did Derek actually _look over _his body, or did he just _look _at his body, just because it was a body and it was there, it was a pretty natural thing to do. The glint in his eyes though...

"That could be something." Emily began, extracting another green apple from her Chanel. "But then maybe he was just like, comparing or something?"

"Nothing to compare, the guy's _built_." Stiles let himself think about that body for a moment, till he felt Emily's hand pressed against his abdomen.

"It's not like you're not built, I can feel muscles under there." Emily smiled lightly at him, before turning her examination into a little tickle between his ribs.

"Stop, stop!" Stiles shouted, laughing, as he pulled her hand off. "I suppose I'm not bad – I play lacrosse – but Derek is really, you know..."

"Hot?" She finished. They both started laughing as their eyes met and they knew she had gotten the answer perfectly.

"Yeah, hot." Stiles winced a little as he said it, it was one thing to think it but he felt awkward saying it out loud.

"Anything else?" Emily continued as she laid down on the ground, her head parallel with Stiles' outstretched knees, her own propped up knees level with Stiles' head.

"When we were on our way to breakfast – and you know that's something in itself, me and this guy weren't exactly friends back home, I mean he kind of scares me, he has that whole bad boy, leather jacket, dark stubble, frown, hard jaw thing going on. Well I grabbed his arm you know, I didn't mean to or anything, just to pull him through the crowd on 14th Street -"

"I hate that street."

"-and he got really tense and stuff, but he didn't try and throw me off or anything, and we kind of looked at each other, so I just let go in case he thought I was being gay or something."

"Well, weren't you?" She asked. Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. "Come on, you totally wanted to hold his hand or whatever, I say you should have just done it." She sat up so she could look into Stiles' eyes, taking off her sunglasses and crossing her legs. "I don't really know what to make of all this stuff, I mean it sounds pretty intense, but then someone else might just think you know, whatever. Why don't you just ask him? You said you guys weren't friends anyway – so just text him or something and say 'do you like me?'" She stopped for a moment, chewing on the arm of her sunglasses, in thought. "But then again texting someone saying that sounds pretty lame doesn't it, and if some guy texted me that I'd be like 'what?'" Another frown crossed her face. "Argh! Stiles, you are so irritating." She slapped his arm playfully.

"Jeez sorry." He laughed along with her. "I feel like such an idiot not knowing what to do, but I seriously don't have a clue. Not one. No clues for poor Stiles. Derek's so hard to read. And for god sake we've only spent _one _freaking day together, not even a full day! I feel like a douche, he's probably just being nice because he knows me from back home and stuff, I should just stop with this reading into things right?" He flopped his head down onto the ground, purposefully hard enough for it to hurt; trying to bash some sense into his thick skull.

"Just go spend more time with him, invite him to a movie or something. The new Batman just came out, two guys going to see that wouldn't seem gay or anything, so you can imagine it's a date while he just enjoys the movie. You might even get a hand-in-the-popcorn moment." A mischievous smile crossed her face as she remembered her own hand-in-the-popcorn moment with one of her ex-boyfriends.

"I don't think he's a movie type..." Stiles mused, trying to think what he really knew about Derek. Not a whole lot.

"Well it can't hurt to ask, right?"

"Yeah – thanks man. I mean thanks... girl?" Stiles and Emily both began laughing.

Two of Emily's apples each (how many did that bag hold?), a half-assed attempt to walk around the park, and two hours later, Stiles found himself at the corner of Fifth Avenue and East 67th Street as he watched the thin, tall, black clad figure of Emily disappear down the street. She lived downtown, but said she spent a lot of her time at her parents place, who were some sort of Upper East Side society couple and lived in pampered luxury in the penthouse of one of those old Rosario Candela buildings. For a while he just stood there, trying to restore some energy, his hangover was still raging, and he didn't think he could muster up enough strength to get all the way back downtown. He was tempted to walk, just to avoid the heat of the subway, but he knew he'd never make it, well not without dropping dead on the way. With a resigned sigh he set off down Fifth Avenue, searching for a station as he traversed the much clearer streets up here.

After another awful journey – Stiles really did hate the subway – he arrived back home, moaning as he trudged up the six floors to his apartment. Thank god he had forgotten to turn the air con off, the place was nice and cool, and with another huge moan he stripped off Derek's clothes, wishing that jeans weren't so uncomfortable to sleep in so he didn't have to use so much energy. His undressing was quite an ordeal, at one point he was just laid on the floor, one leg in the jeans, one leg out, groaning as he tried to drag himself across the floor to his bed. The white covers had never felt so good. Taking off his (or more accurately Derek's) t shirt, socks, and boxers – the jeans were already off, after a huge struggle – while under the covers, he threw them onto the floor with all his other dirty clothes and rolled himself into the double duvet as if it was a huge tube of squishy warmth, or perhaps it could be the warm arms of Derek wrapped around him... either way, he fell asleep almost immediately.

Woken from a deep, deep slumber by the sound of his alarm, Stiles cursed loudly, wishing his phone was right next to him so he could go back to sleep. Unfortunately, he had left it in the pocket of Derek's jeans, which were all the way across the room. He laid there for a good five minutes, mentally willing the alarm to stop, the phone to run out of battery, a bolt of lightning to come through the window and destroy the phone – _anything_! It was a few more moments till it hit him that the alarm was going off for a reason; school. Jumping out of bed as if he'd been prodded with a hot poker he ran across the room to turn off the alarm. The screen told him it was 9:15. It was registration week, so he could skip it if he wanted, but Emily had begged him to come in, he had left her alone yesterday. She had only been there for an hour listening to some seminar about the dangers of the city and being safe; not that she didn't already know, she had grown up here, but she had complained non stop that people kept looking at her as if she was a freak, and both seats either side of her had been suspiciously empty. Possibly her lack of a smile (except when she was around Stiles, or anyone else she actually liked) and the presence of her huge black hat, sunglasses, and all black outfit may have put people off – at least that's what Stiles guessed.

He had gotten a good 15 hour sleep, more than enough time to recharge from his hangover, and he was feeling energized. Plugging his iPhone into the dock in the kitchen he blasted music as he hopped into the shower, sticking some toast into the toaster, ready to be cooked when he got out.

As he ate toast on the sofa in his towel ten minutes later he checked his phone, expecting a text from his dad, he usually got at least one a day, and sure enough it was there. That text, however, waned in importance to a small blue dot next to the name _'Derek'_. Tapping his name he looked through the five texts from him, all from yesterday, his toast frozen in his hand and his eyes widening as he read.

_'Sorry I was weird when you left, hope you're ok.' - 4:15PM. _And Stiles had thought that _he _was the one who was weird, sure Derek had been a bit off, but who was he to question super angry wolf boy?

_'Stiles? Are you angry with me?' - 5:26PM_. Shit, why hadn't he checked his phone yesterday? Derek was clearly pissed off.

_'Stiles! Are you just ignoring me or have I done something wrong?' - 5:58PM_. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Stiles chanted in his head as he read the texts. This was so unlike Derek, he had thought the guy didn't even really want him around.

_'Sorry for whatever I did' – 6:41PM. _Holy shit. Was this Derek or was this some super emotional guy who was comfortable expressing his feelings into actual words? Granted they were just text messages, but he could never imagine something like this coming out of Derek's mouth unless he was talking to his dying grandmother or something, maybe not even then, he seemed like he'd be the steely, strong and silent type, keeping his cool even in any situation.

_'If I knew where you lived I'd come and make sure you're ok – hope the woman outside that diner didn't get you on your way home. ha.' - 9:01PM. _Jesus. H. Christ. Derek Hale just did a 'ha'. The thought of Derek typing out a 'ha' was unimaginable, almost as much as the thought of the guy actually laughing. It was too much for Stiles. Inexplicably, he started laughing himself. It started off as a little snort and a chuckle, but eventually he was laying back in the chair, head thrown back, spewing laughter between mouthfuls of toast. What the fuck had happened to Derek? Picking up the phone from where he'd dropped it on the floor, he quickly typed a reply.

_'sorry I didnt reply yesterday, only just checked my phone. honestly wasnt ignoring you, ill call you on my way home from school.' - 9:37AM. _He pressed send and watched the bar fill up as 'Delivered' appeared under his bubble; before he could over analyse his text and amend it until he drove himself crazy. Still laughing every now and then as he got ready, Stiles wished the day was just over already so he could call Derek. He'd do it right now, but he didn't want to seem desperate or anything, though Derek clearly had no qualms with it – five freaking texts. As funny as he found it, in the back of his mind, behind his laughter, lurked a feeling of unease, Derek seemed really upset, and he was clearly thinking about their breakfast, the way he was acting, and Stiles. The thought made Stiles smile, and this time it wasn't because he was amused.

Four hours later Stiles emerged from the NYU Gym, freshly showered and carrying his lacrosse bag under his arm. He had almost forgotten that there was a friendly game today, for anyone who cared to join up. Luckily the players had been good – not the types just trying to get into it, but guys who had been playing for years. Stiles had nothing against newcomers, but it had taken him years to become a good player himself (and he still considered himself pretty sub-par) and he couldn't be bothered to break in any newbies. He just wanted to let off some steam, and lacrosse was perfect. It took him back to his days in Beacon Hills, and had given him a slight sense of nostalgia; he could just imagine Scott shouting to him during the game; Jackson showing off; Danny showcasing his impressive goalie skills. The guys on his team had all been friendly bar a few idiots – he thought they would have been gone by college, but no such luck – and he thought he may have made a few new friends, though he wasn't really concentrating on new friends right now, all he wanted to do was call Derek. Fishing his phone out of his bag, he tapped the 'D' at the side of his contacts list, finally reaching Derek. He took a deep breath before pressing his name, what was he supposed to say? He wanted to be one of those people who knew exactly how a conversation would go down, exactly what they wanted to say to the other person, exactly what emotions they wanted to express and the tone they wanted to use, but of course, that wasn't Stiles.

"Stiles." The grunt at the other end of the phone shocked him, he hadn't even heard the dial tone. He stopped in the middle of the street, staring into the distance without really seeing, wondering what to say. He should have wrote it down or something.

"Derek, hi, hi, hi... hi!" He slapped his head with his palm. "Um – are you okay? Sorry I didn't reply yesterday, I dunno, you're jeans have some wolf powers that stop the vibration being felt or something, I didn't even check it until I woke up this morning, and I mean, you didn't do anything wrong yesterday at all. If anything I thought I was the weird one." Stiles rambled as he crossed the street, heading for his subway stop.

"Sorry about those texts. I felt like an idiot reading back through them when you replied today." The silence on the other end of the phone made Stiles wince. "I just thought you would have wanted... It doesn't matter."

"Would have wanted? What did I want?" Stiles asked before he could stop himself.

"Nothing. I should go, you sound busy."

"Busy? Me? No not busy, walking on a busy street so yeah you're kind of close, but I'm not busy, couldn't find a more not busy person if you tried. Wanna go see Batman?" He did it again. Blurted out his thoughts without thinking about it. It was very, very faint, and could have just been a sound on the street or a technical malfunction, but Stiles was sure he heard a small sigh – relief?

"I don't know – I mean clearly you have a life here, you were so busy yesterday and all..." Derek didn't sound like himself, and it made Stiles a little weary. He sounded lonely.

"No I was only at the park for a few hours, you know I met Emily and she was walking around in this all black thing I felt like I was in the Adams Family or something, then I just went home and slept for fifteen hours." Another sigh greeted his words.

"Okay, Batman. I'll check times and call you. Bye." Derek hung up before Stiles could say another word, he had to check the screen of the phone to see if his cries of 'bye!' were reaching anyone, which they weren't. Slipping the phone into his pocket as he descended to his station, Stiles let out his own sigh – much louder than Derek's – thank the sweet lord he had fixed that little problem, and got Derek for another date in the process. Wait, date? Stiles slapped himself again at his own presumption, though he needn't have done, thirty seconds later he got stuck in the turnstile and smacked his head on a pole.

Forty minutes later Stiles was waiting at the cinema they had agreed to meet it, in a loose fitting grey t shirt and denim jeans, as well as Derek's hoody, which was quickly becoming his favourite item. He had changed at least ten times before he came out. White shirt, too formal. Red t-shirt, not his colour. Black t-shirt, would look too much like Derek. Ditto with the white t-shirt. By the end of his very own little fashion show in front of the floor length mirror in the living room his apartment was even messier than before, he was definitely going to have to get around to cleaning it, clean clothes were fast becoming a premium for him, just like apartment space and pavement manoeuvrability. Looking up and down the street, searching the faces of hundreds of people for Derek's, Stiles felt himself getting a little nervous, butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, and Stiles couldn't tell if he liked it or not. It was exciting, waiting for Derek, and especially with his texts, their breakfast, the looks he had given him, all of it was adding up to a huge feeling of either unbelievable apprehension or amazing excitement. As he turned left and right he began to worry that Derek might not show up. It would be a very Derek-esque thing to do, well, it would be for the Derek he used to know at least. But this new one was an alien – looked like Derek, sounded like Derek (at least in his voice – the vocabulary had definitely improved) but really was an alien who had invaded his body.

"Holy shit!" Stiles shouted, practically jumping on the balls of his feet as he felt a hand grasp his shoulder from behind. "Trust you to come from the one direction I'm not looking – asshole." Stiles smiled up at Derek, who gave his own tilt of the mouth back, looking slightly awkward.

"Sorry. Let's go." Derek began striding to the doors of the cinema, not waiting for Stiles, who was left to run behind like his little brother who Derek didn't want to be seen with.

"Wait up will you, jesus." Stiles shouted as he caught up to Derek, who was half way across the theatre, the two tickets he had bought online and printed out in his hands. As he finally reached him he extended a hand to support himself – again, not thinking – a hand which landed on Derek's leather jacket clad shoulder. Stiles could feel the heat of his body even through the white t shirt and jacket, and he couldn't help but feel turned on by it.

"Sorry." Derek's lower lip dropped just a fraction as Stiles stood there with his hand on his shoulder, panting theatrically, though he wasn't out of breath at all. The moment may have lasted fifteen seconds, then it was gone. As soon as Stiles' hand left his shoulder he felt the cool air conditioned air of the theatre once more, and the spark that was between them for those few seconds dissipated.

"Let's go see Batman kick some ass. Hey have you seen any of the trailers for this? Bane looks so awesome, and Catwoman looks pretty good too, even though Anne Hathaway's pretty annoying, well at least I think so. I mean, why is she doing this and then Les Miserables? Jesus Annie sweetheart, make up your mind on genre will you. Hopefully she can impress me."

"Sh!" A fellow patron said, pressing his finger to his lips and glaring at Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Hey you got a -" The words on the man's lips died as he saw the glare Derek was giving him, unbeknownst to Stiles, who was nosily and clumsily navigating his way through a sea of legs to two empty seats in the middle of the third row from the top.

"Pretty good seats, right, am I great or what?" Stiles said proudly as he looked at the view from his chosen spot. "Hello, am I invis-" Stiles' words died just as the man's had a few moments earlier as he looked to his right and saw an empty seat. He stood up to try and spot Derek, but he was nowhere in sight, though it was hard to see through the crowds who were flooding into the room, it was a pretty full showing.

"Hey, have you seen my friend?" Stiles asked a young kid of about fifteen, who was sat two seats away. He shook his ginger curls and hid behind his bag of popcorn. "Jesus Derek." Stiles muttered to himself, settling down to watch the boring advertisements that were on even _before _the real advertisements started, thinking in the back of his mind that Derek may have just gone home, but really hoping he had just needed a piss or something.

It was a good twenty minutes before Derek returned, and Stiles couldn't help but laugh when he saw him. He tried to stifle it, but he couldn't, he was strolling down their aisle with almost as much difficulty as Stiles, two huge cokes under each arm, a massive bag of popcorn in one hand, and three bags of different sweets in the other. His mouth even lifted up in one of those Derek half smiles as he saw Stiles stifled laughter, hand over his mouth.

"Who are you and what have you done with Derek?" He asked, turning to him as he settled into his seat, apologizing to the ginger kid next to him whom he had almost whacked in the face with a swinging bag of Minstrels. "Unless this is all for you – in which case it would be completely normal and selfish Derek-ish thing to do."

"Shut up. Here." Stiles threw all the sweets into Stiles lap, putting his drink into his cup holder before reaching over Stiles – his arm brushing dangerously close to Stiles crotch – and depositing his drink in a cup holder for him. Stiles didn't realise he was holding his breath until Derek's arm was clear away from Stiles. Letting out a long, low breath, puffing out his cheeks as he did, Stiles glanced across at Derek, hoping for a glance of that beautiful profile, but was greeted instead by his full face, staring at Stiles head on, with an amused expression. Stiles widened his eyes and gave an awkward, shocked smile before becoming very interested in an advert for tampons which was rolling across the screen. Was Derek bi-polar or was Stiles losing his mind? One minute he was walking away from Stiles as if he wasn't there and disappearing without saying a word, and the next he was rolling up with a handful of treats and smiling at him. From the corner of his eye Stiles could see that Derek was still looking at him, but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of turning to him and letting his face betray his emotions again. He looked ahead with renewed resolve, waiting until his heart beat calmed down to speak again. Thank god it was dark in the theatre, so Derek couldn't see the dull blush on his face.

"I forgot to say thanks – you know, for this." Stiles turned to Derek, his heartbeat almost back to normal, though he didn't think it would ever slow from its increased pace with Derek so close to him.

"It's just sweets." Derek said as he shoved a fist full of popcorn into his mouth.

"Yeah but you know – well I love sweets, so it's kind of great. Can I have some?" He motioned to the popcorn, which was nestled between Derek's wide spread thighs. Derek just shoved more into his mouth, giving Stiles a quick nod before looking around the theatre, surveying the crowd.

"Thanks – I get to have my popcorn from your nasty crotch." Stiles laughed as he grabbed some popcorn out of the bag, resisting the urge to lay his hand on Derek's steely thigh.

"It's not nasty." A few beats. "You don't seem to mind." Derek raised his eyebrows in response, eyes narrowed, this time not out of anger or confusion, but in a private smile that didn't show on his lips, staring Stiles down till he looked away. Stiles let out another huge breath of air, mentally willing the movie to start so he could stop getting embarrassed around Derek. This was more intense than breakfast, that was for sure. Stiles hardly dared to think it, but was Derek flirting with him? As the advertisements finally finished – this time the _real _ones for the movies, and the opening scene began, Stiles settled back in his seat, resting both arms on the rests beside him, actually excited to see the movie, not just to be here with Derek. Though that little detail – heavy sarcasm on the word little – just made the whole thing even better. Explosions and introductions ensued, and by the time Stiles' interest started to wane he felt something hot against his arm. He didn't dare shift an inch for fear of Derek moving his arm of the rest, which they were now sharing. Clearly Derek liked popcorn, he was still shovelling it into his mouth, staring at the screen with rapt attention, eyes flickering every now and then as he followed the characters across the enormous expanse. Stiles wanted to turn his head fully, maybe even to rest it on Derek's shoulder, but of course his nerves weren't strong enough for that, he'd probably make the headlines tomorrow as the poor boy who got his head torn from his neck in the downtown New York theatre for hitting on a half-man, half-wolf.

After half an hour neither arm had moved. It wasn't like it was the absolute height of sexual charge and unspoken intimacy, in fact it may mean nothing. Stiles had done a little reconnaissance – well, as much as he could without shifting more than a few inches – and seen plenty of guys with their arms touching on the rests, people did need a place for their arms after all. Gathering his nerves, hoping Derek wouldn't move, Stiles lifted his arm off Derek's, shivering involuntarily as the warmth of his supernaturally heated blood left his arm, and reached for his coke. Sucking up a huge amount through the straw, till his thirst was quenched, Stiles replaced his arm as if he wasn't waiting for Derek to move his own, and settled back, his eyes on the screen, his heartbeat slowed. Derek didn't even flinch, or seemingly notice. His arm stayed exactly where it was, hand slightly askew as it held the popcorn towards him, other hand – which had the ginger boys half of the rest all to itself – transporting popcorn to his mouth. As the movie reached it's hour and a half mark Stiles' eyes began to droop. He never was very good at staying awake through such long movies, and the theatre was just so warm, and dark, and comfortable. Or was that Derek? Tall, dark, handsome... warm, comfortable. As Stiles' eyelids drooped further and further he felt a pressure on his hand, which had previously been laying lifeless at the end of the arm rest. His eyes jolted open, and he had to resist the urge – he had been doing a lot of resisting lately – to lean over and throw himself onto Derek. Derek's fingers were snaking through Stiles', till they all interlocked, his empty popcorn bag discarded onto the theatre floor along with all the other trash. Derek's hand squeezed Stiles', which was still pretty lifeless, almost as if his brain couldn't comprehend what Derek was doing, but when Stiles looked to him for an explanation, this time turning his head fully, actually wanting Derek's attention, he was met only with his profile, staring stoically ahead. Although he couldn't explain why Derek was gripping his hand _so _nicely, his own hand finally found life as he realised he couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Letting out the breath he had been unaware he was holding in, his fingers squeezed Derek's back. He felt the tension which he hadn't even noticed Derek's arm was suffering from release as soon as Stiles returned that squeeze, and as his eyes drooped he realised that maybe he had been right about Derek after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Another hour or so passed as Stiles lulled in his seat in a half sleep, barely focusing on the movie, more intent on just revelling in the feeling of Derek's hand holding his own. It was such a good hand, he had to admit it, strong boned, with veins pulsing out of it which Stiles loved, and so _warm_. Not that sweaty warm that Stiles got on the subway, but a comforting warmth, like he was back in his apartment wrapped in that perfect, soft, white duvet. Every now and then, Stiles dared to squeeze it again, almost as if convincing himself he was really holding hands with Derek Hale, not just imagining things. When the pressure signalled Derek's returning squeeze, Stiles smiled to himself. Derek even took the initiative himself a few times, which Stiles loved. Especially when he was about to drop off properly, and he was woken by the force on his hand. The waking wasn't a jolt of shock any more, just a light withdrawal from that land of sleep which Stiles loved to visit so often. It was a non threatening jolt; a nice jolt, letting him know that Derek was there with him, holding his hand.

As the movie came to its final climax, Stiles found it harder and harder to keep his heavy lids open. They had decided to go to a pretty late showing, and with the long runtime of the movie it would probably be pretty late when they got out, definitely dark.

He was woken by the sounds of rapturous clapping, some people were even stood up, which made Stiles cringe. He never clapped at the end of a movie, he just didn't get it. Derek wasn't clapping either, he was looking around like a lost dog, frowning at everyone, his fingers clasped around Stiles' tightly. Stiles revelled in these last few moments, it might be too much to hope that Derek would feel okay with holding hands while walking down the street, but hey, a boy could dream. As the fingers left his with the arrival of the theatre lights and the rush to get out of the cinema as soon as possible – another thing Stiles didn't get – he sighed a little in sadness. Those fingers intertwined with his just felt so _right_. Shuffling through the crowd in silence, more because Stiles was still half was still half asleep than because he didn't know what to say, the two of them walked very close together, their arms touching more often than was needed, but not as much as Stiles would have liked.

Emerging onto the street, the night air hit him – much cooler than the day, but still warm – and it felt invigorating. Suddenly Stiles' mood perked up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten as he looked to Derek and beamed.

"Do you wanna get something to eat? I know that you had all that popcorn and all but I could really go for something greasy right now, there should be a McDonalds somewhere, there's hundreds in this city." Stiles asked, craning his neck to see through the surprisingly thick crowds of people for such a late hour, looking for the famous yellow M.

"I think I might just head back to my hotel, I'm tired." Derek muttered, looking straight ahead.

"Don't be boring, c'mon." Stiles grabbed Derek's hand, this time on purpose, not just his arm, and jogged across the street, weaving through the grid-locked traffic. Derek kept an even pace beside him, his face lighting up a little, though Stiles didn't notice – he was too focused on his own happiness at running across the street hand in hand with this gorgeous man, and trying to avoid tripping over and falling onto the bonnet of a taxi, though a little part of him hoped he might have a stumble, just so Derek could catch him.

"Phew." Stiles stopped on the opposite side of the multiple lane road to catch his breath, his elation falling a little as Derek disentangled his fingers from Stiles'. Heading into McDonalds, which was a lot emptier than Stiles expected, Stiles couldn't resist turning to Derek and flashing him another huge smile, tonight was just going better than he could have imagined, a hand-in-the-popcorn moment was one thing, but holding hands through most of the film was on another level. Stiles was pretty inexperienced in the dating game – he and Danny had tried it once, but it was too weird, they were just friends. Other than that, and the guy from the subway, Stiles was counting this night as his first real date.

Settling into a little white booth in the corner of the room – this time Stiles waited for Derek to get in first, so he could slide in next to him instead of opposite him – with a huge tray of greasy burgers, fries, and two massive cokes in front of them, Stiles hand instantly slipped into Derek's, who accepted it, in it's position nestled under the table, without a word, eating his food with only a few breaks for conversation. As usual, Stiles did most of the talking. Insignificant details – how much he liked New York – how great the city was, especially at night – how he had loved the movie, well, at least the parts he had been awake for – how school was going well – his lacrosse game earlier...

"Are you gonna stay here then? I think you definitely, _definitely_ should. It's a sweet city. I mean, the subway can be kind of shit, but other than that what is there to complain about? There's always something to do, at any hour, always people about. I know you're kind of a loner in that creepy old house in the woods -" Stiles squeezed Derek's hand to let him know he was joking, "- but maybe you should, I dunno, at least try being sociable. You know I'm sociable, or as sociable as I can be with this stupid awkwardness that hangs over every word I say, but it's fun..." Stiles had to stop talking in order to take a bit of his burger, if not he could have kept going for hours. Derek took the opportunity to finally speak some words of his own.

"I might. I need to find an apartment that I like and am willing to pay for. I have enough money but I don't want to just waste it all."

"Well I told you, check out my building. It's seriously sweet, and I bet you could afford one of those massive studios that are on like the twentieth floor." Stiles grabbed Derek's phone off the table and wrote his address into the 'Notes' section. "Here. Just ask your real estate person about it?" Stiles smiled at Derek, a little grease from the burger running down his chin.

"Stop. You have something -" With his other hand, Derek grabbed one of the horrible paper thin McDonalds napkins, rubbing away the grease on Stiles' face. Stiles' mouth dropped open yet again, revealing the mashed up food inside. Derek's hand moved across, stroking Stiles' defined jawline before gently closing it so his mouth was back how it should be.  
"I don't want to see all that nasty food in there." A half smile flitted across Derek's lips as he spoke. Stiles had to resist opening his mouth and laughing along too, for fear of spitting chunks of burger all over Derek's face.

As they continued to eat, Stiles chatting animatedly about the benefits of New York, he sensed Derek's mood begging to shift. Pushing his unfinished food away, Derek's face suddenly changed from interested in what Stiles had to say, to his usual hard line, jaw set, lips tight together.

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No." Stiles said as he looked at Derek, easily noticing the shift in his demeanour. "What the fuck is up with you?" Stiles asked, his voice raised halfway to a shout.

"I -" Derek looked into Stiles' eyes, and for a second Stiles' envisaged Derek kissing him. It would be perfect, the perfect end to a great first date, but he had no such luck. He felt Derek's fingers slipping out of his own, and the next second Derek's arms were crossed, and Stiles was getting no more hand holding action. Stiles couldn't take these mood swings, he felt his face heating up and his inner rage coming out as he turned to face Derek, his features twisted in anger.

"Fine. You know, you just fucking go and do your bi-polar thing, stay here alone, have this fucking -" he grabbed his half eaten burger and raised in the air before throwing it forcefully down onto the table "- burger, and these fucking fries -" he did the same with his fries, splattering them both with potato to go along with the cow, "and just enjoy your meal alone, because you don't seem to wanna spend any time with me." He got up from the table, luckily not tripping over his own feet – he was too angry to even worry about that right now – purposefully knocking over his still half full coke so the brown liquid spilled all over the table, dripping down onto the yellowing floor and onto Derek's jeans, and stormed out, ignoring the shocked stares of the other diners as he stomped out, slamming the door with a crash that shook all the windows.

"I am so STUPID!" Stiles shouted as he practically ran down the bustling street. Hardly anyone paid his ravings attention – this was New York after all. The subway ride saw him engrossed in a completely one sided conversation about how stupid dates were, how irritating it was trying to get people to open up, and generally how annoyed he was with everything, all because of stupid Derek Hale. Derek Hale, who held hands with him no less than three times, who stroked his jaw in that way of his that had left Stiles horny as hell and excited, and then had just withdrew with no explanation. How could the guy be so fucking difficult. It was obvious he liked Stiles, so why wouldn't he kiss him, or even just keep holding hands? Stiles didn't need walking to the door and being kissed in the rain, he would have been more than happy with a sleazy McDonalds and maybe a walk to the subway stop. Arriving home quicker than he ever thought he could get there, mainly because he had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Derek that he had hardly noticed his body was on auto pilot, Stiles flopped onto his brown leather chair and stared off into the distance, still seething. He didn't want to cry, or to call Derek to get answers, he wanted to smash something. Heading to the partitioned kitchen, he fished out a plate, and with all his force threw it on the floor, feeling a little better as it smashed into thousands of pieces. Six plates later, Stiles' anger had abated slightly, but not enough for him to answer his phone, which had been ringing non stop since he left Derek. Turning it off completely, he stripped and crawled into bed, though sleep did not come easily. He tossed and turned for hours, reliving the feeling of Derek's hand on his own, the feeling of his fingers stroking his jaw. Finally, as the traffic outside died down, he fell into a restless sleep at some time around 3:00AM.

The sun brought no more clarity on Derek, and Stiles still refused to turn on his phone. Luckily he wasn't due in school till the afternoon, for a meet and greet with staff. Pulling himself together, thinking he had better go and get to know the people who were actually teaching him, he left for NYU, his phone dumped in the pocket of Derek's hoody, which he had swapped out for his own, much less inviting one. He didn't come back to the apartment till after six, having spent hours walking around the city in circles. He wasn't as upset as he thought he would be; rage was his primary emotion. No sulking in the corner crying, Stiles just wanted to punch someone. It came as a shock to him, he was usually such a passive person, never wanting to get into confrontation, but the way he felt right now, even Derek in full wolf-anger-mode would not scare him. Well, maybe not. Gathering his running shoes from a still unpacked box, Stiles changed into shorts and jogged off his anger for over two hours.

The next day was much of the same, anger, analysis of what had happened, anger, school, analysis of what had happened, run, anger, anger, anger.

It wasn't until three days later that Stiles finally started to calm down. He knew he was overreacting to what Derek did, but he couldn't explain his anger, so he simply accepted it, until he came to have some clarity. Maybe it was a gay thing, after all Stiles had came out years ago, but he always thought Derek was straight. That scenario could be believable, but Derek had such a low interest in what others thought of him that Stiles couldn't imagine he'd care if people started talking about him being gay. Being hit for being gay, by a gang or something, was also ruled out – Derek could rip them all apart on his own. The only explanation Stiles could accept was that Derek simply didn't like Stiles in a sexual way – but the way he had _looked _at him, and _touched _him?! Maybe he was just trying it out and felt bad for leading Stiles on... Whatever Derek's reasoning for being such a bi-polar mess were, Stiles felt shakily ready to deal with it, and turned on his phone to be greeted by a barrage of bleeps and tri-tones.

He had seventeen emails – all spam. Three missed calls from his dad, who he quickly texted and told him he was okay and would call him later, as well as the seventeen missed calls from Derek, all from the night he ran away from him. Seven texts from Emily, all comments on their days at school, clearly she never remembered what he told her every day; that his phone was off. And finally there was the blue dot next to Derek's name. Taking a breath he clicked his name, feeling his face unexpectedly blush in anticipation of what was waiting for him.

_'Shit Stiles, calm down.' - 00:03AM. _Stiles ignored that first one, Derek did deserve a few outbursts after the shit Stiles had pulled in McDonalds.

_'Have you seriously gone? come back' – 00:11AM. _

_'Stiles im really sorry' – 00:13AM. _Why could he communicate so much better via text than in person?

_'I need to talk to you in person' – 00:25AM. _By that time Stiles had already been on the subway, ranting to the stranger sat next to him.

_'Ill let you cool off then. talk tomorrow' – 00:47AM. _That one was around the time Stiles was smashing plates around his kitchen – a little thing his neighbour had pulled him up on the next day.

_'are you seriously doing this to me again? At least let me know youre ok' – 07:33AM. _Stiles couldn't help but smile a little at the texts, at least they proved on some level that Derek cared for Stiles, that he didn't just want to forget this.

_'im an asshole' – 09:29AM. _True, Stiles thought with malice.

_'I cant say the things I want to over a text Stiles' – 13:00PM. _What things could he possibly want to say? Stiles dreaded to find out, probably that he never wanted to see him again.

_'I really need to talk to you' – 19:51PM. _

_'answer me' – 20:23PM._

_'calmed down yet?' - 07:33AM. _Stiles hadn't even been close to calm by that point. Reading the messages was making him feel better, at least he hadn't turned on the phone and had no messages. On some unspoken level, Stiles knew that he had been testing Derek in some twisted way, to see if he cared.

_'please call me.' - 13:19PM. _Stiles muttered profanities to himself as he read the texts. How is it that Derek could make him feel like _he _was the one who did something wrong? He was a different person over the phone, a better communicator, who actually deserved some sympathy.

_'if you don't answer im coming over. I have your address, remember?' - 16:53PM. _Clearly that one had been some sort of threat to try and elicit a response. Stiles kind of wished he had came over, so that he could have got one good punch in before Derek ripped his arm from its socket.

_'ok, that didnt work, ill stop bothering you.' - 04:12AM. _The last one, Stiles thought, may have been the most heart wrenching of them all, especially with the time code. Had Derek waited up all that time for Stiles to respond? He suddenly felt his bottom lip wobbling a little, as if he was back at home watching Macauley Culkin die in My Girl. Taking a deep breath Stiles tried to decide on what to do next, text him or call him? He didn't know if he could handle a voice-to-voice conversation, so text it was.

_'sorry I didnt reply, I needed time to cool off – you really pissed me off but kind of won me over with all these texts.' _He stopped for a moment, wondering whether to send or add something more, maybe a little something to show that he wasn't as mad any more? _'who knew you had a heart – im glad.' - 10:08AM. _Stiles put the phone on the arm of the chair, fidgeting nervously as he waited for the tri-tone to ring through the apartment, his foot tapping, his fingers twitching. He lunged for the phone as soon as he heard the beep.

_'really, really sorry. Can I come over?' - 10:13AM. _Stiles typed and sent his reply before he could indulge in one of his over analysis modes.

_'yes. 6F' – 10:14AM. _It was too late to change his mind now, Derek was coming, and Stiles was determined to get answers. Looking around the mess that was his apartment, he decided not to bother with cleaning anything up. The wooden floor was almost completely obscured by dirty clothes, dishes were piled in the sink, and a few fragments of smashed white porcelain where still glittering on the kitchen floor, but Stiles didn't care. He wanted Derek to see his place exactly how it was – maybe he hated mess and wouldn't stay so Stiles didn't have to endure what he was positive was going to be an awful, awkward conversation. Before he realised it, twenty five minutes had passed, and three loud wraps on the door signalled the arrival of Derek. He had forgotten to get dressed, so he was still naked. Heading to the bedroom he ripped the thin sheet off his mattress and wrapped it around him, pulling on a pair of yesterdays boxers as he moved back to the living room – he wanted _some _degree of modesty. Opening the door with a huge sigh, he came face to face with Derek.


	5. Chapter 5

**A much shorter chapter I know, I decided to post it so soon after Chapter 4 because of that exact reason. Hope everyone is enjoying this Stiles/Derek build up. :)**

Derek looked tired, but good. The slight darkness around his eyes from his sleepless night suited him, and even though many passers by had thought he looked pretty sinister, Stiles thought it gave him an air of vulnerability – he was human too, he got tired like everyone else. Well, he _wasn't _human, but he still had some left in him.

"Come in." Stiles stepped aside to let him pass, enjoying the feeling of the leather brushing against his bare chest as he passed, and the warmth Derek was radiating.

Stiles sat on the brown chair, while Derek stood, a little awkwardly, in the centre of Stiles' mess, looking around in shock at the state of the apartment.

"You know you'll get rats if you don't clean this up." Derek commented, trying to break the tension.

"Thanks – I'll take it under advisement." Stiles replied dryly, his eyes on the floor.

"Why did you get so mad? Wa-"

"-why did I get so mad?" Stiles' fury was returning, "maybe because we had a great time, I was hoping that you liked me since I ran into you at that bar, and then you finally show me outright that you do, holding my hand all through the movie, across the road, all through our food, then you just let go and become angry wolf guy again, for no reason!" Stiles stared at Derek, panting a little – he had forgotten to take breath breaks.

"I was going to say that didn't come out right, I get why your mad..." Derek looked down at the ground, kicking at one of Stiles' jumpers aimlessly. "I don't know why I let go. I just felt... argh, I hate this." Derek turned around, pacing up and down the tiny room. "I don't talk about feelings. It's not who I am, but I don't want you to be mad at me..."

"Then tell me why." Stiles muttered. "It's okay if you don't like me, I mean you're kind of sending mixed messages but I get it. Whatever."

"No! That's the whole problem, I _do _like you." Derek looked at Stiles as if he was someone he didn't even know – Stiles had warped the whole thing into another realm when all Derek had been thinking about since his breakfast with Stiles was _Stiles_.

"Well, good." Stiles gave Derek a slight smile, though it never reached his big brown eyes, which were now staring up at Derek, waiting for an answer.

"I mean- it's..."

"Is it because I'm a guy?" Stiles asked, genuinely interested in Derek's answer.

"What?" A frown furrowed his brow. "No, no. That's not even important – I've just never actually _liked _someone, I mean, beyond sex. Not that I don't like you in a sexual way, its- argh!" Another growl escaped his snarled mouth. "Can you pull that fucking sheet up while I'm trying to talk? Couldn't you have gotten dressed? Jesus." He ran his hands through his hair as Stiles pulled the sheet, which had been piled around his waist with his torso and left leg exposed, over his shoulders, pulling it close around him.

"Maybe we should take a break from this conversation." Stiles said, his eyes wide. Derek was clearly getting worked up, and the last thing he wanted was for him to do some sort of anger-morph in the middle of his apartment, he'd tear the place apart, as well as Stiles too, probably.

"Yeah – yeah." Derek visibly calmed, his thoughts, which had been ricocheting around his head like rockets, now had time to process, so he could really work out what he wanted to say next.

"Let's just put a movie on." Stiles headed to the kitchen, pulling his laptop out of his bag and setting it up on the brown chair. He piled the cushions and duvet from his bed around the base and back of the opposite wall and sat down as the last movie he watched, The Truman Show, started whirring around in the tray and loading. Derek pressed play before shutting the heavy brown drapes on the two windows, closing the panelled glass door to the bedroom, and sitting down next to Stiles, his breathing still heavy. Stiles was nervous being next to him, but excited. The main thought going through his head as Jim Carey appeared on the screen was that Derek actually liked him – he had _said _it, outright. No more guess work needed. The guy liked him. Stiles let off his first genuine smile in days, and even a slight laugh. Derek, watching Stiles intently from the corner of his eye, calmed as he saw him smile. He couldn't even explain the feelings that were running through him to himself – he needed time to process them and find the right way to tell Stiles without sounding like an idiot.

"Sorry for, you know, getting angry." Derek said, his head now fully turned to Stiles. It was taking all his self control not to kiss him.

"Me too, and for splashing my meal all over you." Stiles conceded, feeling guilty. While Derek had a lot of self control, Stiles had a fraction of that, and wanted to kiss him just as much as Derek wanted to kiss Stiles, but he knew he shouldn't, not until Derek finished his conversation from earlier. For now, he contented himself with snuggling up to him, letting out a sigh as Derek wrapped an arm around him. Way better than the guy from the subway. He rested his head on the side of his chest, fitting perfectly.

Even though he had practically just woken up, one of Stiles' favourite past times – sleeping – was soon upon him again, his eyes growing weary as the movie progressed, revelling in the comfort he was experiencing by having Derek's arm wrapped around him. He was pressed up to his hard, muscular body, feeling content as he matched his breathing to Derek's, his head rising and falling slightly with every breath Derek took. It was just a few more minutes before sleep came to him, a blissful, content sleep that even the hard wooden flooring he was laid on couldn't combat.

AS his eyelashes fluttered open, Stiles groaned in anguish. He knew the reason he had woken up, the warm body of Derek was gone, instead he was laid sideways on two pillows, his pelvis oddly contorted, legs sticking out at odd angles. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he tried to listen for any noise in the apartment, at least he listened for any noise from the bathroom, which was the only room Stiles couldn't see clearly from his position on the floor. Nothing. Throwing the door open just in case Derek hadn't left and was lurking around in there, he let out another groan as he realised his suspicion was right after all, Derek had left. The rage that had consumed him three days ago was far from his mind now, though, his feelings were swayed more to that of resigned interest and hopefulness.

A note was scrawled in Derek's messy handwriting and stuck to the fridge with one of Stiles Beacon Hills fridge magnets that his dad had given him as a little joke before he left for New York, to remember where he came from.

_'Sorry I left again, didn't want to wake you, you were so peaceful. I need time to think. Wait for me?'_

Stiles' heart lurched as his eyes scanned the page, which had been torn out of one of his notebooks. How could Derek make Stiles turn to jelly with just a few words. Part of it was just seeing Derek open up to him, seeing him smile every now and then, seeing him actually talk, and say sweet things like 'wait for me?'. He loved Derek's authority and power, true, but this side to him was a whole other face of the man, and one he loved equally, if not more, than his dominant side. Wrapping his arms around himself and smiling, Stiles padded to the bedroom to get ready for school, turning his phone to loud, just in case Derek called.

The rest of the day passed by in slow motion as Stiles waited for one of Derek's texts, his eyes scanning his phone every few minutes, though the messages he wanted were never there. He got a few from Emily, one from his dad, and one from Scott back home, but never the one he was waiting for. By the time he got out of his last session of registration week – it was so stupid that he had to go in on a Saturday – at two in the afternoon, Stiles could barely go on. He needed to do something, needed to distract himself from Derek. Maybe he just needed to vent about everything that had happened, and he knew Emily would be up for it. Setting up towards his subway he fished out his phone and tapped out a message,

_'what are you doing? Want to hang out?' - 14:07PM. _The response was almost instantaneous.

_'yeah, at my parents. Meet me at the corner of fifth and 67_th_.' - 14:09PM_. Smiling to himself, Stiles turned around and set off in the opposite direction, headed for another line which would take him to the Upper East Side.


	6. Chapter 6

The subway ride was cooler than his previous ones, the city had definitely been cooling down over the past few days, and he found himself almost enjoying it for once, especially as the line he was on had actual seats available for him to sit on, a first for Stiles. He had always been stood before, jammed in between the other commuters, this way was so much better. Not long after he had gotten onto his train – after a quick change – Stiles arrived at his stop, and headed out to the clean streets of Lexington Avenue. He strolled past Hunter College, towards East 67th Street, and similarly strolled down that street until he found himself on Park Avenue. Across the street, a black clad figure was strolling even slower than Stiles. Running over the crossroads, he caught up with her halfway down the street.

"Emily! Hey." Stiles panted a little as he reached her, flashing her a smile.

"Stiles hey, you should have told me you were coming from Lexington, my apartment's back this way." She linked her arm through his as they made a U turn, heading back towards Park.

Emily's apartment was a duplex at the top of 660 Park Avenue, on the corner of Park and 67th Street. Stiles jaw dropped as she walked him through the panelled foyer to the elevators, where she inserted a private key into one of the buttons, lurching the machine into motion. As the doors opened on the eleventh floor, he was greeted by white wood panelling with dark wood edges, black and white chequerboard floor, side tables overflowing with huge bunches of pink and white floral arrangements, and an elaborate, winding staircase. Two impeccable white poodles yapped at his ankles as he exited the elevator, before they ran through an open set of wooden, glass panelled doors into a formal living area, where they settled down under the shadow of a huge grand piano laden with family photographs in ornate gilded frames.

"Jesus H. Christ. Nice place..." Stiles mused as he looked around, trying to take in the grandeur of it all. The entrance way, which he was stood in the centre of looking up, was double height, with a splendid wooden railing running from the stairs around the upstairs landing, where a small boy with raven hair and inquisitive green eyes was staring at him through the tangled arms of a crystal chandelier. A oval skylight flooded the room with the afternoon light, and he couldn't help but feel hopelessly out of place in his plaid shirt, open over a white t shirt, denim jeans, and Derek's navy hoody, which he had taken to wearing again after Derek came to visit.

"Sweetheart, do I see you've brought a man home? A new boyfriend?" A tall man, impeccably dressed in an eggshell turtleneck which emphasised his athletic body, and black trousers from Carlos Campos, his feet encased in plain white socks asked as he began crossing the room, having emerged from a previously unnoticed door on the opposite side of the room, identical to the one that led to the living room, but with a long hallway behind it, lit by a stainless glass window at its end. He was holding a tumbler of scotch and a _lot _of ice, his handsome, lined features raised in a half smile that reminded Stiles of Derek.

"Uh – Hi, I'm Stiles." Stiles extended a hand to the man, who shook with a firm grip that Stiles tried to match himself.

"Decent handshake." The man smiled. "Could be a keeper."

"Dad, will you shut up. Where is everyone?" Emily asked, smiling at her father through her blood red lipstick. "Byron! I can see you spying on us!" She shouted to the small child who had been watching Stiles from upstairs, throwing her arms in the air in a scare attempt, laughing as the child fled out of sight.

"You're her friend from New York University?" Her father asked, tilting his head in interest before taking a gulp of his scotch. "Ghastly school..." he muttered, looking at Emily with narrowed eyes. "I told Emily she should have gone to Yale, even Columbia if she wanted to stay in the city, but she was having none of it."

"I've told you a thousand times, NYU has a better film programme, and I don't wanna leave the city." Emily shot over her shoulder as she put Stiles' bag into a cloak room next to the elevator. Stiles just stood there awkwardly, looking around him, not quite believing that this was where Emily grew up.

"Vivian, tell your sister how much you love Columbia." Her father shouted back down the hallway he had came from, waiting a few minutes until a girl, even taller than Emily was and if it was possible even thinner, in very tight, fitted black pants and an oversized, maroon cashmere jumper cinched at the waist with a patent black belt, emerged in a similar fashion to her father, a tumbler of vodka and ice in her hand. Tucking a stray strand of ice blonde hair behind one of her ears, showing the diamond stud in her ear, Vivian headed towards them, looking as amused as her father did.

"Of course I love it, dad. You should transfer, Em. It's not too late, I'm sure dad can make a call." She took her eyes off Emily's back, who was putting her cardigan onto a hanger, and let her eyes rove over Stiles instead. He felt as if she was undressing him, her smoky black eyes managing to remove every piece of his clothing until he was stood there naked. A blush crept up his neck.

"This one seems sweet Em." Vivian smiled genuinely at Stiles. "What happened to Aaron?" She continued as she headed towards the living room, pulling aside the drapes to gaze out at the city.

"Nothing. Stiles isn't my boyfriend you know." She frowned, looking from her father, all the way across to her sister, who glanced at each other knowingly.

"That's what you always say, until we hear you two upstairs." Vivian's lips twisted into an amused smirk.

"Please Viv, no more of that." Her father said, his expression changing from amused to stern. Vivian wiped the smirk off her face.

"Stiles is gay." Emily smiled in fake sweetness before grabbing Stiles' had and running up the stairs, leading him up to her bedroom, while he was forced along, feeling more awkward than he thought he ever could, turning his head as he trudged up the stairs and giving her father an apologetic shrug.

Emily's room was an enormous expanse of luxury, half of the walls panelled in white wood, the top halves upholstered in a deep cream fabric which felt even better than the comfort of his duvet to touch, though nowhere near as wonderful as it was to fall asleep in Derek's arms. A massive four poster bed with thick drapes hung back in a very neat state dominated the room, while the rest contained the usual desk, chest of drawers, a large trunk at the end of the bed, and a wide assortment of posters and photographs plastering the walls. Through an open door a bathroom was visible, white another open – this time double – door led to her enormous walk in wardrobe, illuminated clothes protected behind their glass sliding doors, with a cushy chaise lounge in the centre.

"Your family seem – interesting." Stiles told Emily as she began rooting through her trunk, "I sometimes wish I had a bigger family, it's just me and my dad, you know, and he works all the time. Your place is _really _nice, I wish I had this instead of my tiny one bedroom apartment." Stiles stopped speaking as she handed him the bottle of Russian Standard she had pulled out, emerging from the trunk again with two dusty crystal tumblers, which she washed off in the bathroom.

"Shit, mixer." She looked around her room, searching for a bottle of coke she might have forgotten about, or anything to mix the drinks with. "Byron!" She screamed after she decided there was nothing here, Isilda, their maid, had probably cleaned it up, just as she made her bed every morning.

"What?" The small boy who had been watching Stiles earlier appeared in the open doorway, the collar of his white shirt askew, one sock missing.

"Go get us some coke or lemonade or something. Please." Emily added the last word as an afterthought, sighing with relief when she saw Byron running down the stairs for her.

"You really wanna drink so early?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He didn't mind at all, in fact he would be glad of the drink to try and get rid of the thoughts of Derek which were still persisting in his mind like irritating gnats. The only thing he was worried about was her parents, but clearly her father and sister drank, so perhaps they wouldn't mind.

"Of course I do, I can see there's something on your mind. Alcohol is always the key to loosening a tongue." She smiled as she poured them drinks, giving her brother a quick kiss on his dark curls before adding lemonade to the vodka. Joining him cross-legged on the floor, she took a hearty sip of her drink, her black eyes staring into his brown ones, waiting for him to start talking.

By four o'clock Stiles was almost gone, his head laid back on the floor, spinning slightly, as Emily, who could handle a lot more alcohol than he could, flicked through songs on her Mac, which was set up on her lap.

"Derek's just so cute you know?" Stiles slurred, "he's cute and he's hot, really hot. Hot and cute, cute and hot, he's great..."

"Except for the fact that he's totally weird and changes his mind on you every time you're together." Intoned Emily as she put on a dance remix and got up, starting to dance a little, her ankle length, black, pleated chiffon skirt swaying as she moved.

"Yeah but the stuff he says in texts, you know, I told you earlier, it just makes me forgive him cos' I know he's opening up to me and... stuff." Stiles gave himself a smile, stretching out his legs so he could reach the phone in his pocket. No texts from Derek.

"Why don't you call him?" Emily asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up, mouth slightly open.

"No-o-o!" Stiles replied, laughing along with her as she playfully snatched at his phone. He let her have it, turning away from her to refill his glass.

"Hello is this Derek? This is the wonderful messenger of Mr Stiles calling -" she giggled as she saw Stiles' look of horror, "- just wondering if you can tell me why you're such a complete idiot, passing up this beautiful man." She whacked Stiles with a pillow, letting out a huge burst of laughter as he tried to claw the phone from her grasp.

"Let me talk to him!" Stiles shouted as he chased her around the room.

"Here, fine – _so _nice speaking to you Derek." She passed the phone to Stiles, "The guy just kept asking for you. Sounds kind of angry." She shrugged her shoulders, biting her bottom lip as she smiled like a child who ate their desert before their meal.

"Derek? I'm so sorry – she just had the phone and I turned and she was ca -" Stiles cursed as he stubbed his toe against the corner of some drawers.

"I didn't call you. Sorry." Derek muttered, wondering why Stiles was cursing.

"Take your time – well not too much time or I'm gonna go out of my mind." Stiles turned away from Emily, who was listening with rapt attention, dropping his voice, "I haven't stopped thinking about you." He slurred, blushing as he realised what he was saying.

"You might be drunk, but I'm glad you are if it makes you say things like that." Stiles obviously couldn't tell, but he was sure Derek was smiling at the other end of the phone.

"Mm hm. You are so – cute!" Stiles burst into laughter as he said his last word, blushing some more, even though Derek couldn't see his face.

"Shit, Stiles. You don't even know how cute you are yourself, do you?"

"Of course I know. I'm just the cutest, well you obviously think so." Stiles was beaming by this point, his face hot against his hand as he spoke.

"Sober up and meet me later?" Derek asked. As soon as he said it Stiles put down his fresh drink, determined to get on water and coffee so he could meet Derek with a clear head later.

"Okay. Text me. Bye." Stiles almost said something else at the end, but quickly stopped himself, hanging up instead. He waited a few seconds before saying anything to Emily, smiling to himself instead.

"So, what's happening?! You look pretty pleased. See, aren't you glad I called?" Emily asked with a huge smile as she sipped her drink.

"We're meeting later, I have to get sober though – I wanna hear what he has to say."

"Good idea, I have to go to this benefit with my parents later so I better sober up myself." She grabbed both their drinks, pouring them down her bathroom sink. Together they headed down the winding staircase, Emily in front, still dancing a little to the tune she had stuck in her head, Stiles drifting behind her with a glazed expression of joy on his face. They headed down a hallway to the spacious kitchen, Stiles seating himself down on a stool at the island as Emily busied herself making coffee.

"Coffee is it? Going to need some to wash down all that vodka." Stiles' mouth dropped open as he turned in the direction of the voice and saw Emily's mother stood in the doorway. A tall, striking woman, with an impossibly thin frame that she had clearly passed to her daughters, her blonde hair was drawn back in an elegant chignon, revealing her defined jaw. Black eyes glinted above high cheekbones, and her red painted lips were upturned in a slight smile. Elaborate rubies glinted in her ears, matching the piece around her neck, which looked like something from the British Crown Jewels. The enviable body was encased in a high necked, long sleeved, simple cream gown.

"Uh -" Stiles said, staring.

"You like it?" She asked, doing a playful turn. "I just adore getting ready, it's the best part of the night."

"You've been getting ready for the past four hours, mom." Emily smiled at her as she poured cups of coffee for her and Stiles.

"Yes well, you know me, I abhor looking anything less than perfect." She came up behind Emily, who was now sat beside Stiles, and started plaiting her hair.

"Why do we have to go to this gala again?" Emily winced as her mother pulled a little too tight.

"I'm not sure. Some cause for the homeless or something, I just like the party. You know me, I'd go to the opening of a door." She kissed her daughter gently on the top of her head before extending a manicured hand to Stiles.

"I'm Clarissa, so nice to meet you Stiles. My husband told me what a nice boy you are." Her hand was soft and impossibly delicate as Stiles shook it, the bones feeling like they may break if he gripped too hard.

"So glad to hear you play for the same team," She crossed the room and began mixing a Martini, adding gin to the cocktail shaker, "we are just sick to death with Emily's parade of boyfriends. We get to know them, then we never see them again! Hopefully you will be a more permanent fixture." She gave him a huge smile reminiscent of Emily's, revealing flawless white teeth.

"Uh – yeah – I hope so too, I mean I'm sure I will. Unless me and Emily fall out, which we won't, cos' you know, we're like really good friends."

"Mom, you're making him nervous, go away." Emily told her mother with a smile, letting her know she wasn't being cruel.

"Fine, I'm going to have a drink in the living room. Feel free to join us." At the doorway she turned to face them again, thinking about something for a moment. "You know Stiles, we're having a party here tomorrow – Sunday evening – a little fund-raiser for the children's charity I support. We can never trust Emily to do what we tell her, so instead of asking her to invite you I'll invite you myself. Will you be here?" She widened her eyes, waiting for a yes.

"Oh -" Stiles looked to Emily for help, but she just looked back at him stoically. "- yeah, sure. It should be fun – I don't have a tux or anything though..."

"Oh I'm sure Grayson can loan you one, you two are around the same size. I'll tell Andrea to put you on the list. Come a little early, say six thirty, Sunday evening." With that she turned on her heel and headed to the living room, her heels clinking on the floor.

"Grayson's my other brother." Emily explained as Stiles looked at her, confused. He felt so out of place here, but he really did love her house, and her family seemed nice. Impossibly beautiful and infinitely wealthy, but nice all the same.

After four coffees, endless talk about what could happen at his meeting with Derek, and a plate of spaghetti that a private chef made for them in silence as they talked animatedly, Stiles got ready to leave. Derek wanted to meet him at Central Park, the gate across the street from The Plaza Hotel. He was glad he didn't have to go on the subway, The Plaza wasn't too far a walk, just straight down Fifth Avenue. Giving Emily a quick hug, who wanted to come with him to get a glimpse of the boy her friend could _not _stop talking about, but was holding in her curiosity for his sake; shaking hands with her mother and father; and waving goodbye to her brother, who was lurking at the top of the stairs again, Stiles descended the elevator and emerged onto the street. As he headed down 67th Street, making a left when he hit Fifth, he wondered what Derek would have to say to him. Would he finally be ready to open up? Stiles felt the butterflies in his stomach and willed them to stop fluttering, he wanted to be cool, calm, and collected for this meeting, no throwing his food all over Derek, just listening to what he had to say. He had to try and keep his talking to a minimum – if he opened his mouth he'd go off on one of his rants again, probably ruining the whole thing. Before he knew it he could see Pulitzer Fountain in the distance, and, bracing himself, he headed into the park.


	7. Chapter 7

The huge expanse of green that Stiles was ambling over was practically deserted. A few couples sat under trees or on benches, occasionally a jogger passed by on the track to his left, but otherwise the place was peaceful, just how Stiles wished his brain was. The thing was flying all over the place, thoughts bouncing from one side to another as he tried to envisage the meeting. In the distance he could see the towering figure of Derek, and gulped as he felt his heart beat increase.

He was so tall, so dark, so handsome. Broad shoulders, wrapped in their usual leather jacket, supported his neck, veins rising from under the surface out every now and then as he tensed, clearly as anxious about this meeting as Stiles was. His heavy, broad, defined jaw, which was covered with a slight coating of dark stubble extending to the edges of his defined cheekbones, was set in a hard line, and his relatively thin upper lip and fuller bottom lip were pressed together, moving every now and then as he ground his teeth together in anticipation. The slowly sinking sun was behind him, and his muscular frame was casting a ten foot shadow across the emerald grass. Stiles felt his knees go weak, and had to steady himself on the thick trunk of a chestnut.

Seeing him like this made Stiles feel hopelessly inadequate. He had some issues with his own thin frame when he was in school, but he had overcome them over the last few years, especially once he realised that he wasn't that much thinner than many other guys on the lacrosse team at all. His abdominal muscles were clearly defined if he tensed, his arms were thin but strong with taut definition, and his legs were long and lithe. Taking a sharp intake of the murky evening air, he continued towards Derek with an increased vigour, ready for whatever happened next. He didn't know what he was expecting; at the bottom of his stomach thoughts still remained about how Derek might just decide he didn't like Stiles any more, or how he had met some equally muscular, dark handsome guy and was going to try it with him instead. But there was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to finally find out how Derek felt, that is if Derek could get the words about before his mood changed and he ran away, like he did so often; maybe not physically running, but definitely running emotionally.

"Hi." Stiles scratched at his crew cut hair awkwardly, eyes anywhere but on Derek's. He settled for a spot on his arm instead.

"Hi." Derek said, his deep voice almost breaking. He quickly cleared his throat, making sure there would be no more awkward breaks in his voice during this conversation, what was he, fifteen?

"So-o-o. Well this is fun." Stiles smiled up at him, trying to overcome the tension, but not really succeeding. He resisted the urge to rant just to fill the silence, but after a few seconds of staring into Derek's eyes, which were giving nothing away, he realised he was going to have to say _something_. "Did you have some time to think then?" He settled his lanky frame onto the ground, extending his arms behind him and resting on his palms, stretching his legs out in front of him and signalling for Derek to sit next to him, or anywhere. "I waited." He added, becoming engrossed with a blade of grass which he started rolling around between his bony fingers.

"Sorry I left again the other morning." Derek said, narrowing his eyes to block the sun, which was peeking through two skyscrapers.

"It's okay – I get it. Well, I kind of don't get it which is why I'm here, you know to find out, so I can get it. If that makes sense." Stiles let out another breath. The edge of Derek's hand – his little finger – touched Stiles' as he moved a little closer to the younger boy next to him. The slight touch of Derek's skin reassured Stiles, his heartbeat slowing.

"I told you the other day – I don't talk." A smile was almost visible on the corner of his lips, "but I'll try. Um -" he ran his other hand, the one that wasn't rested against Stiles', through his hair, looking at the ground.

"I like you Stiles, and I just never thought I would- wait that came out wrong, not that you're not good looking, I think that you really are -" Stiles could see Derek tensing up, getting frustrated. He moved his hand fully on top of Derek's, winding their fingers together and feeling relief wash over him as he saw Derek calm down.

"Slow down, man."

"Yeah, sorry. Uh... Well I never thought I would like someone like this, but I've told you before I never really _liked _anyone before, I've never even really had many close friends before, and now..." He scratched at his head, trying to bring the words out, trying to verbalise the myriad of feelings he had for Stiles. "The way I feel about you – it scares me Stiles. It makes me feel like I'm not in control, and I'm _always _in control, I d-"

"You don't like it. What can I do if you don't like how you feel when you're with me?" Stiles asked dejectedly, attempted to finish Derek's sentence.

"No, Stiles. That's what's so confusing about it, I _do _like it. I feel like a real person for a change, and it just sounds so stupid because I never even thought of you like that until I put you to bed the other night, you were so -" he looked down, the tiniest blush emerging on his cheeks "- sweet." He shuffled nervously, wishing Stiles would say something, but Stiles' mouth was open, his eyes wide, listening properly – for once – to everything Derek was saying. "The things you were saying, you said I was hot, and thanked me for helping you, and how nice I was under my 'big bad wolf persona'" a half smile grazed his lips. "And now I feel like I'm in a cheesy romance movie or something. But I like it." Stiles knew he jaw was hanging open, but he couldn't close it.

"I – uh, thanks?" Stiles saw Derek's eyes widen in momentary vulnerability at Stiles' words, "No – I mean, really, thanks for telling me. This is what I wanted to actually here you say!" He gave Derek a playful shove.

"Well now that I told you, do you forgive me for being so weird?" Derek looked at him, in hope.

"Of course, idiot."

"We don't have to like, sit around talking about our feelings all the time now do we? Because I really don't think I could do that." The air of tension had vanished now, both of them were smiling. Stiles had gotten everything he wanted and more from this conversation, he found himself thanking Emily mentally for drunk dialling Derek, who knew if they even would have spoke again had she not?

"Course not, that's lame." Stiles rested his head against Derek's shoulder, happy that Derek's features were losing their vulnerability and returning to big bad boy wolf guy. They did, however, soften whenever Stiles caught his eye.

The two of them sat like that for a while, it was actually romantic, if they imagined that Midtown wasn't blocking their view, they could picture the sun setting, instead they just looked out into the city, which h was arguably a better view than the sun anyway. Stiles' eyelids began to droop again, as they often did when he was just sat like this with Derek, the guy made him feel comfortable and safe, he could stay like this forever, at least definitely until morning.

"Come on, I'll take you home." Derek said, jumping up from the ground, extending a hand to help Stiles up, which he gladly accepted.

They held hands almost every minute of their walk and subway ride back to Stiles', not speaking much, they were both tired, but exchanging many a lingering look. Stiles felt like he never wanted to let go of his hand, and wished they were walking the entire way, just so he could have more time with Derek. The awkward air Stiles had usually felt the need to fill was now completely clear, the two of them knew exactly where the other stood and couldn't be happier with their positions.

Before long, too soon for both of them, they were outside Stiles' apartment building, looking at each other, wondering who was going to make the first move. Derek took the initiative at the same moment Stiles did, their heads colliding too fast – they bashed skulls.

"Jesus! What's that thing made of, concrete?" Stiles laughed as he rubbed his forehead.

"Shit, sorry." Derek laughed too, his face breaking into a smile that Stiles had never thought he would see. "Let's try again." Derek moved his head towards Stiles, who inched forward himself, slowly this time – no more collisions. Stiles loved the feeling of Derek's stubble brushing against his face, tickling his own smooth skin. For a few seconds their lips just stayed on each others, as if they were kissing their mothers – not that either of them had any – until Derek slowly opened his mouth, his tongue extending and touching Stiles' closed lips, lips that soon opened, his own tongue coming forth and clashing with Derek's. Derek was gentler than Stiles would have expected, but he loved it – there was a time and place for Derek to exert his big, manly, wolfy dominance, but this moment was softer, sweeter, their arms wrapped around each other, holding one another close. Breaking away, they both smiled – Stiles his usual grin, and Derek a smaller, but unusual unguarded smile, his teeth actually showing. The moment was completely perfect. As Stiles turned to Derek, taking his hand off his waist, moving to enter his building, a transvestite in a huge feather headpiece stuck her head out of a taxi, black lips wide in unabashed laughter,

"You go hunnies!" She screamed, cackling into the wind as the yellow cab roared off down the street. They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles felt like his old self again the next day – only better. He jumped out of bed as soon as he heard the alarm, grinning as he remembered last night, doing a little dance to himself while he plugged his iPhone into the dock, flooding the apartment with blasting music. Emptying his bladder before jumping his shower, he sung along as she lathered himself in shampoo, creating a white coating all over his hair and body whilst using the shower head as a microphone. Hopping out of the shower with a flourish, wrapping a towel around his waste, Stiles smiled to himself in the mirror. Derek Hale liked him, kissed him, held his hands, _held _him. It all just seemed too good to be true. He had always thought Derek was hot, but the feelings he had for him now went beyond that. When he woke up in his bed he just wanted a night of carnal lust with the man, but it had progressed so far beyond that in the past week that it was almost surreal. Spitting out a last wad of toothpaste and swilling his mouth with cold water, Stiles headed back into the living room, grabbing his phone from the pocket of Derek's hoody, which he put on over his bare torso.

_'Want to do something today?' - 11:27AM. _He was _so _glad he finally had a day off from school, a chance to get the sleep in he loved. If he could he would sleep till noon every day, but school got in the way of his desire for slumber.

_'Have you just woke up? Ive been looking at apartments since 8 – next stop your building. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.' - 11:39AM. _Smiling to himself, Stiles dried off his legs and began rooting through boxes for some clean clothes. He had hardly any left at all. Thankfully he found some underwear and on odd pair of socks at the bottom of a box full of DVD's, jeans were fine – he had been wearing the same ones for a week now, but he always did. A t shirt was harder to find, every one of them smelt a little off. Stiles wasn't a sweaty person or anything, but he didn't want to be walking around in a shirt he had already worn, or one that was all crumpled from the floor. With a shrug he decided to just leave Derek's hoody on without a t shirt. He zipped it almost all the way up, wincing as the zip got caught on the skin of his neck, before running downstairs to meet Derek.

Derek's real estate agent was a well kept woman in her late fifties, who shuffled into the building with tiny steps, careful not to get anything on her white suit.

"Hey!" Stiles shouted, his face lighting up when he saw Derek strolling in behind her, looking around the foyer.

"Hi." Derek gave him a smile, his eyes and features softening as he looked down slightly, admiring Stiles' brown eyes. He gave his hand a quick squeeze before following the woman to the elevator, his hand snaking around Stiles waist as stepped in with him.

"This is a wonderful apartment – your friends suggestion, right?" She nodded at Stiles briefly. "Good choice, there's one full studio here for sale – messy divorce. Oak floors, gorgeous windows, high ceilings, even has a fireplace." She stepped forward as the elevator ground to a halt on the sixteenth floor, waiting for the ping of the doors. There was the tiniest hallway awaiting them, it could only just fit the three of them in. Stiles and Derek had to lean back a little so she had enough light to insert the key into the centre lock of a huge wooden door, which swung open after her fourth attempt.

"Holy shit." Stiles said, his mouth dropping as he looked around the huge apartment. It was all one room, minus the bathroom, and stretched from one side of the building to another, taking up the entire North section. "This must be about thirty times the size of mine." Stiles mused as he walked around slowly.

"Now you may just see a blank canvas, but just think what a masterpiece you could create." She was true about it being a blank canvas, the room was huge and white, with steel pillars running down the centre of it to support the weight of the floor above.

"I can't really see what I'm meant to be imagining..." Derek told the both of them as he walked around, his eyes mainly focused on the view. Of course, the agent picked up on it.

"The view is really the best part, as you see you have an amazing scene of downtown, the towers of the financial district visible over there -" She pointed towards the skyscrapers in the distance, "- and if you look over here you have all of the Meat Packing District spread out before you, even a glimpse of Jersey over there." She pointed across the river, smiling smugly.

"It's really nice though." Stiles conceded, walking from one end to the other. At the top end of the room was the kitchen, a series of plain white counters with black marble tops, with gaping spaces where the fridge and oven had been ripped out.

"Just imagine a dining room here -" She gestured to the blank space beside the kitchen worktops, "- Then here would be your living area, perhaps mount a television over the fireplace, a few couches and the like -" She crossed the room a little further, standing next to one of the rooms five steel supports, "- Then here, you could maybe set up some Chinese screens to block off space for the bedroom, a perfect place with the bathroom right there." She pointed into the distance, where a closed door led in the bathroom. Derek went and took a look at it, nodding his approval as he emerged two minutes later.

"Do you like it, Stiles?" Derek asked, turning to him with an odd expression on his face. Stiles wondered why he was asking him, this didn't seem like a normal question between friends – or were they boyfriends now? There was a real search for an answer in his question, as if Stiles' opinion could sway Derek's choice of apartment exponentially.

"Well yeah! It's huge, and this a great area. And I'm downstairs." He added the last clause with a smirk, only half jokingly. "Well -" he continued, after seeing Derek still looking unsure, "- it's your choice, you're the one whose gonna be living here after all, but if it was me I'd buy it. Cos you know, it's just nice, I already said that, right?" Stiles gave him a smile before he turned his eyes back to the apartment, looking up at the high ceilings and huge windows with a guilty pang of envy.

"I'll think about it and get back to you, but I think I'm moving towards a yes." Derek said as he turned to the real estate agent, nodding his head curtly.

"Well, just know there's a few interested buyers, not as many as the owners would have liked – hence the price slash, but I have a good relationship with their agent, I think I can get you maybe ten, possibly fifteen percent lower than the asking price." She said with a self confident smile before heading to the door, holding it open for them, Derek walking quietly behind Stiles, who didn't realise Derek's eyes were checking out his ass.

Stiles was leant against the main door of the building, watching Derek as he muttered a few last words to the agent before hailing her a cab.

"What?" Derek asked, smiling at Stiles with an inquisitive expression, heading back towards the building.

"Just thinking about how hot you are." Stiles replied boldly.

"Well I already knew you thought I was hot." Derek told him, smiling as he wrapped his hands around his waist, loving the feeling that spread through his body as Stiles did the same to him. He moved in closer, lips meeting Stiles' as they kissed for the second time. It was longer this time, more intense, Stiles' hands roved up and down Derek's broad, muscular back, wishing the leather jacket and t shirt weren't preventing him from getting his hands on his skin. Derek put his own hands under Stiles' – or his own – hoody, pulling away from the kiss for a second in shock at the bare skin beneath.

"Forgot your shirt?" He laughed.

"Mm hmm." Stiles laughed, his lips turning up as he smiled during their kiss, which was getting hotter and heavier every second. Derek's hands were now roving around under his shirt, exploring the contours of Stiles' back, brushing over moles, touching hidden muscles under his skin.

"What do -" Derek began to ask, unable to finish as Stiles, unhappy that Derek had broke off the kiss, came back for more. "- you want to do -" His words were lost again as Stiles' mouth hit his own, himself unable to push him away "-today?" He finally got out before clashing lips with Stiles once more, his tongue fighting the younger boys for the upper hand, his hands roaming higher and higher under the hoody, now exploring every one of Stiles' ribs.

"Um -" Two loud, deliberate coughs from behind Stiles jolted the two of them from their make-out session, drawing apart as they let one of the residents pass onto the street, both laughing.

"Come on. I'm hungry." Stiles dragged Derek into the building, practically jogging up the six flights of stairs, his hand entwined with Derek's.

"Still haven't cleaned?" Derek muttered as he followed Stiles inside, thinking how tiny it was compared to the one they had just seen, the one he was seriously considering making an offer on. Stiles looked up and down the room – not much of an effort, it was so small – and began kicking all his clothes into the corner. Five minutes later an enormous pile of dirty garments was stacked at the bottom of his mixture of empty and half-unpacked boxes.

"There! Clean! Happy now?" Stiles smirked, moving in for another kiss.

"No. Go make us something to eat. Do you have a black bag?" Derek asked as he surveyed the mess, looking only slightly better now that it didn't coat the entire floor.

"Uh – yeah." Derek caught the roll of plastic bags as Stiles threw them across the room, rooting through his cupboards for something to eat. Turning around to put some bread in the toaster, which was on the island, Stiles saw Derek loading up all the clothes into three black bags, which were bulging under the weight.

"You're a born housewife – who knew?" Stiles joked, sticking his tongue out in reply to Derek's middle finger.

"Yeah? Well I'd rather be a housewife than a slob." Derek jested as he tied off the bags and piled them up in the corner of the room. "We can take these to the laundry later." He continued, leaning over the counter and stealing a bite out of Stiles' toast.

"Hands off. Don't you prefer the taste of human flesh anyway?" Stiles joked as he slotted in Derek's bread to be toasted.

"I think I would compared to the meals you eat." Derek peered into Stiles' trash, seeing a multitude of toast crusts and empty ready meal boxes. "Do you eat anything that actually tastes good?"

"What's wrong with toast?" Questioned Stiles through a mouth full of toast, crumbs all over his face.

"You know, I can cook." Derek said nonchalantly, not looking at Stiles.

He couldn't contain a laugh, "You can clean _and _cook? You'll make a great wife, hunnie."

"Forget it." Derek said, looking at Stiles sheepishly.

"Well I'm full, but you can cook for me later." Stiles squeezed Derek's shoulder as he headed towards the window, feeling him relax as soon as he placed his palm on the muscles. Picking up his phone from the windowsill, Stiles read the text he had just heard vibrate.

_'You still coming tonight? Havent heard from you so I guess it went well with derek. I want details!' - 12:45PM. _

"Shit, shit, shit. Maybe your cooking will have to wait." He held up his phone in exasperation, "I was invited to some charity thing at Emily's by her mom, so I kind of have to go." Stiles shrugged apologetically.

"It can be something for you to look forward too." Derek replied, looking over Stiles long, lean body as he stood texting a reply to Emily. He wanted to have sex with him, now, to rip his clothes off, take him into the bedroom and show him that just because he was showing his feelings didn't mean he couldn't go back to his carnality in the bedroom. His thoughts manifested in his mouth, with began turning up in a snarl, a growl escaping his lips.

"You're not gonna eat me, are you?" Stiles half jested, a little worried.

"I want to eat you up." Derek crossed the room, wrapping his thick arms around Stiles, who dropped his phone onto the chair and wrapped his own around Derek's neck. Emerging from their make out session - which had somehow ended up with Stiles laid back in his chair, Derek on top of him – five minutes later, Stiles had to catch his breath, they barely came up for air when their lips were locked together.

"Can I at least finish my breakfast first?" Stiles asked with a lopsided grin.

Two hours and two and a half episodes of _Bones _later, Stiles was sprawled out in bed with his head on Derek's chest, one hand stroking Derek's ripped stomach underneath his t shirt, the other feeding popcorn to himself.

"I just don't get how she can look at the bones and know that shit though. This stuff can't be real – I mean all the skeletons look the freaking same." Stiles ranted as Emily Deschanel determined the origin of her latest victims bones. "Oh he's visually impaired – good analysis Temperance, he's got a glass eye!" Stiles shouted at the screen, laughing to himself. "What kind of name is Temperance anyway, and Seeley? This show had stupid name guys or writers or whoever comes up with that stuff," He continued between mouthfuls of butter coated popcorn, "do you think Seeley's good looking?" Stiles asked, turning his head to Derek, who was looking down at Stiles, more interested in just listening to his rambling than the actual show.

"Not my type." He replied, trying to kiss Stiles but finding their positions didn't really allow for good access – neither of their necks were that flexible, and neither wanted to move from their extremely comfortable positions.

An hour later, their disc finished, Stiles was half sat, half laid, on top of Derek, their tongues once again fighting. Stiles' jacket had been thrown to the side, along with Derek's, though he still had his t shirt on while Stiles was exposed. Stiles wasn't shy, especially now he knew how Derek felt about him, and he kind of got a kick out of teasing him by being shirtless. The feeling of Derek's entire arms on him, finally out of leather, was turning Stiles on like crazy, his dick hard inside his jeans, veering painfully down his left leg. Their crotches kept rubbing together as they kissed, eliciting moans every now and then from both of them, especially with Derek's hands moving all over Stiles' body, brushing against his nipples, running across his abdomen, pawing at the small of his back, even delving a little beyond the waistline of his jeans and grabbing the top of his rounded ass. Derek loved Stiles being on top, but he couldn't handle it for too long, and with a groan he threw him off, switching positions so he was astride instead, his muscular legs parted on either side of Stiles, his hands free to explore the front of his body in more detail. His own lips left Stiles' – who moaned in anguish, he wanted them on him forever – and moved down to his neck, kissing, biting, sucking on the smooth flesh. He gnawed at his collarbone as he lowered himself further, his pelvis thrusting out, grinding his own hard member against Stiles' through the layers of denim and cotton that covered their bottom halves. Stiles groaned unashamedly, his moans only serving to make Derek even hornier, especially when Stiles reached over and grabbed the shoulders of Derek's t shirt and tugged.

He extended his arms in response, letting Stiles pull the white fabric off his body, looking up at Stiles from under his dark brows, his breath ragged. Derek continued his descent - kissing every inch of his chest, the bones slightly visible beneath the small muscles of his pectorals – until he reached his nipples. Kissing all around the hard, pink circle while grinding against him and stroking up and down the sides of his body with his hands, Derek took it into his mouth, sucking hard until he heard Stiles groan in appreciation.

"Fuck." Stiles groaned, fearing he might blow his load at any minute, especially when Derek moved across to the right nipple, doing the same as he did for the left, but this time biting down very slightly before he moved downward yet again.

Derek kissed his ribs, one hand now stroking Stiles' jawline, before he reached Stiles' happy trail, the line of dark hair running from his belly button down into his jeans.

"You are perfect." He muttered, his words almost unheard through Stiles' moans and his own kissing noises. He kissed around the little hole in Stiles belly, eliciting a tiny giggle, before he moved to his trail, loving how it felt against his face as he moved across to the hipbones, which jutted out because he was arching his back to meet Derek's grinding motions. He had undone one of four buttons on Stiles' jeans, burying his face into pubic hair that came forward to greet him. Two buttons, and Stiles was practically ready to explode, his body felt like it was on fire, three buttons, and the base of Stiles cock was almost visible, tantalizingly close to Derek's lips, which were now bruised and plump from all the biting Stiles had been doing to them. Derek looked up at Stiles, his eyes dark and hungry, he wanted Stiles.

"Don't stop Derek." Stiles pleaded, his hips circling as he anticipated what would come next. Derek smiled up at him, a true smile, before he returned to his kissing, his hands now stroking Stiles' thighs, every now and then brushing against his extended length through the left leg of his jeans, getting a huge groan from Stiles. Derek popped open the fourth button and quickly moved to take his jeans off. The underwear which he had dragged down with the opening of every new button sprung back into place, though it was tight boxer briefs, leaving the extent of Stiles' arousal very clear. Derek growled, a carnal sound of lust, but didn't go back up immediately, instead exploring Stiles' legs; the many taut muscles in his calves and thighs from years of jogging and lacrosse, loving the way a line appeared down the side of his thigh when Derek lifted his leg, kissing it all the way back up to his waist, then across his belly, feeling the muscles tensing in anticipation. Derek slowly peeled down the boxers from either side, still kissing his way down as he did. As Stiles' cock was freed from its prison it sprung up and hit Derek in the face, both of them laughed, but it was soon replaced by Stiles' moans as he licked the head of his member, loving how horny he made Stiles. Derek widened his mouth around its girth so he could take the impressive thing into his mouth, Stiles' hands kneading through his hair, tugging a little as he felt the wet expanse of Derek's mouth descending over him, taking him in.

"Oh, holy shit." Stiles groaned, his eyes screwed up tightly in pleasure as Derek started sucking on the head of his cock again, licking, sucking, his pace quickening, head bopping up and down as Stiles whimpered above him.

"Oh fuck, get off, I'm gonna cum." Stiles blurted out, not wanting to cum into Derek's mouth as he felt his abdomen tensing, the orgasm beginning to wash over him. But Derek made no move to get off, he just sucked harder, and as Stiles exploded inside his mouth he kept on going, drawing out Stiles' orgasm as he moaned above him, his body arching forward, all his muscles tensing and his brain shutting down for a few seconds as he basked in the best orgasm he had ever had. Derek swallowed every drop that Stiles spurted into his throat, loving the new experience and wanting to experience it fully.

"Jesus. Fucking hell." Stiles panted as Derek planted a kiss on his neck, sucking hard. "That was amazing." Stiles stroked Derek's flushed face before kissing him, tasting himself on his tongue.

"For me too." Derek replied with an unguarded grin, loving how Stiles had been putty in his hands, loving exploring every inch of his beautiful body, loving bringing him to what was clearly an amazing orgasm. Stiles wanted to return the favour, to explore Derek's body, to take his cock in his mouth, but he was _so _relaxed that he could hardly move. He was completely spent, and was grateful when Derek rolled him onto his side, extending one arm under Stiles' neck and wrapping the other around his waist, his hand resting against his stomach, their legs a messy tangle of limbs. They both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.


	9. Chapter 9

The sound of Stiles' phone ringing filled the tiny apartment, pulling Stiles from his sleep with a groan. It had woken Derek up already, his heightened senses could detect the faintest ringing even in his sleep, but the feeling of Stiles' naked body pressed against him, his own arms still wrapped around the body beside him, their legs still intertwined, had been too good for Derek to leave. He had just laid there for a few minutes as Stiles' body attempted to wake its master so he could answer his phone, breathing in Stiles' scent, revelling in the feel, the taste, everything about the guy was irresistible to him.

"God, if you exist please strike me down!" Stiles groaned into his pillow, grasping Derek's hand, never wanting to leave the bed. He couldn't remember when he last had such comfortable, uninterrupted sleeps, the only memories he had of such amazing feelings were those from his childhood, when his mother would lay in bed with him, stroking his hair until he nodded off, sometimes returning to bed with the sheriff, other times just deciding to stay with her son.

"You have to get up if you want to make it to that party." Derek murmured as he nuzzled the back of Stiles' neck, glancing over at the digital clock which told them it was almost half past five. He planted a few kisses onto his skin, feeling the warmth from being pressed against Derek for hours, wanting to turn him over and kiss every inch of his body all over again, take him into his mouth again, make him feel the pleasure he had induced in him earlier.

"I don't wanna go." Stiles replied, breathing out a sigh in appreciation as the phone stopped ringing, pushing himself back against Derek. He could feel his erection through his jeans, the feeling making him horny himself, his own, unclothed dick stirring under the sheets.

"You said you'd go." Derek closed his eyes as he tried to calm down, though the feeling of Stiles' bare ass pressing into him really wasn't helping. Turning Stiles' head slightly and propping himself up on his elbow he planted a soft kiss on his lips, his neck, his shoulder, sighing as he pushed him away. "Up." Derek jumped out of bed, angling himself away from Stiles so he couldn't see the full extent of his arousal as he strode to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and turning on both taps. Stiles watched him go, leaning back on his elbows, admiring the definition of Derek's back, the narrow hips, the firm ass. He had no idea what the guy was doing in there – though he had a tiny idea.

Hopping out of bed he sat himself down on the arm of the worn leather chair, picking up his phone and seeing the missed call from Emily. With a sigh he dialled her back,

"Sorry – I was asleep. I'm gonna get ready and set off soon." He looked around the room for any sign of clean clothes as he spoke, seeing none. Good job he was borrowing something from Emily's brother.

"Thank god! I'm going out of her mind over here. There's like thousands of caterers everywhere I go, maids running around like hyenas, florists and gay decorators in pastel colours swinging their charts in the air and barking commands. My sisters already passed out drunk, Grayson's totally stoned, and my mom keeps accusing a waitress of stealing her diamond brooch. Get here. Now." Her voice was menacing, clearly she was pissed off and had already been digging into the sauce a little herself, her words had been slurred. Derek emerged from the bathroom, the bulge running down his jeans now abated, stretching as he watched Stiles sending a text to his dad.

"I might need to crack open one of those bags, I don't have anything to walk to their place in." Stiles smiled as he looked up at Derek, admiring his body as he flexed his chest, arms outstretched behind his head, muscles rippling.

"I figured as much from the state of this place the other day." Derek crossed the room, picking up his plain black backpack and pulling out a grey t shirt, black boxers, and white socks. He threw them across the room to Stiles, who missed and laughed as they landed on the floor at his feet.

"How come you're so sweet now?" He asked as he got up, wrapping his arms around Derek, planting a kiss on his lips.

"Shut up and get dressed." Derek replied as their lips parted, looking appreciatively at Stiles' ass as he bent over to slip the boxers on.

"You know, why don't you just come with me?" Stiles asked as he rolled the socks on. "Emily wants to meet you, plus I wanna show you off." He revealed, a little embarrassment manifesting in his cheeks.

"I wasn't invited, remember. Besides I don't have a tux."

"Neither do I, her brothers loaning me one." He scratched his chin, frowning at the flaw in his plan. If Grayson was the same size as Stiles was, then no way would his suit fit Derek. He pondered the issue as he wiggled into Derek's t shirt, glancing up to see he was doing the same thing. What was it about wearing someone elses clothes that made him feel so horny? "Can't we just go buy one?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"And wear would I wear it, except this one party? I'm not really one for charity events – I prefer a bar."

"We can rent one then. There's gotta be a place nearby, this is New York." Stiles grabbed his phone, smiling to himself at his own genius. Typing 'tuxedo rental' into Google, he clicked the map of nearby places, finding one just five blocks away.  
"Ha!" He held out the map triumphantly to Derek, who frowned at it, before doing the same to Stiles.

"Fuck." Derek growled in aggravation, he really didn't want to go to a party in a monkey suit.

"Calm it wolf man. You're coming. Let me just text Emily." He sent her a quick text before kissing Derek to calm him down. Derek was unhappy, but the kiss made it a little better, besides, if Stiles was there, then he would pull through.

Half an hour later, after getting a _little _distracted by another steamy make out session, the two of them ambled into Rent-A-Tux.

"We need a suit for this big guy." Stiles told the cashier, slapping Derek on the back, who stood there looking like it was the worst experience of his life.

"Sure. Two mins' darlings." She slapped the gum between her teeth before wandering off behind the counter, presumably searching for someone to help with a fitting

"You're gonna look pretty hot in this." Stiles said quietly, looking down a little. He and Derek were becoming close, true, but he still felt a little awkward saying things like that to him, the temptation was just too high, he really did think Derek would look good when he was suited out.

"Don't look away." Derek told him, softly touching his jaw and angling it upward so they were looking into each others eyes.

"Um – hey? Come back and we'll fit ya'." The cashier said, looking out of place as she stared at the intimate moment, wishing she had a boyfriend of her own.

"Come on, come on, I don't have all night." Another, much thinner and taller woman said as she emerged in a flurry of fabric from the royal blue curtain behind the cashier. Her afro was bobbing as she walked, Derek's arm clasped firmly between her ebony fingers.

"I think I just want something pretty simple -" Derek attempted to begin, before she cut him off.

"Charity, wedding or funeral?" She asked, green eyes widening as she waited impatiently for a response.

"Charity." Derek replied sullenly, not liking her attitude at all. He gave her one of his classic glares, but she was unfazed. She had seen it all before.

"Ok sweetie, arms up." She said as she began to measure Derek. Stiles look on, amused, as she jotted down his size on a pad beside her, tutting every now and then, smiling once in a while, shaking her head from time to time.

"I feel like a clown." Derek grumbled as she hurried off behind another curtain to draw up a suit that would fit him, frowning at Stiles, who was sat on top of a counter with a smirk on his face.

"You look like one too," He conceded with a laugh, Derek really did look funny with his arms stuck out in the air, his back straightened out fully by her persistent fingers, and his legs spread. "Don't worry though, Ill ever mention this again. Except maybe every day." He added the last part as an undertone, forgetting about Derek's supersonic hearing for a second, laughing to himself as he glanced up again, realising Derek could hear everything he said.

"You're gonna pay for making me come here." Derek joked, is eyes sparkling mischievously, his expression soft.

"Okay, here you go. Out. Go, go, go!" She ushered them out with a wave of her long red talons, handing Derek the suit while pushing them back through the curtain. Derek paid the rental price, grumbling as he did, before they headed onto the street once more, this time heading in the opposite direction, en route to the next subway stop.

"You know, earlier was amazing." Stiles told Derek as they sat together on the low chairs, waiting between stops until the obstruction on the tracks ahead was cleared. Their subway had been held up for 'unspecified reasons' and for some inexplicable reason of his own Stiles had decided to bring up Derek and him.

"I know." Derek stuck his chin up, smiling widely in a joking manner.

"Shut up, I'm serious." Stiles threaded his fingers through Derek's in the space between their seats, placing his hand on his thigh and rubbing up and down gently.

Derek couldn't help himself, the feeling of Stiles' long fingers on his thigh made his cock stir beneath the jeans, and he used the garment bag that contained his suit to cover his arousal.

"I know you don't really wanna come tonight, so thanks for doing it. You know, because its gonna be pretty strange. Her house is amazing, I felt so out of place, but you can kind of fit in anywhere." He smiled up at the older man next to him, "well not fit in, you actually kind of stick out as a moody sour wolf, but at least you don't get embarrassed or anything."

"Stiles, just because I don't blush all the time like you do," he ran his fingers against the soft skin of Stiles' cheeks, "doest mean I don't feel out of place or get embarrassed." Derek informed him, opening up.

"Well thanks anyway," Stiles squeezed his fingers, wanting nothing as much as he wanted to back at his apartment with Derek, his hands entwined with his, Derek's arms around his body. The mechanisms of the train began to grind and creak as they moved once more, drawing Stiles out of his daydream, though he almost felt as if he was in a permanent daydream just having Derek sat next to him, their hands still clasped together.

"68th Street. Hunter College." The crackly, broken voice echoed around the carriage as Stiles slid out of his seat, hating how he had to let go of Derek's hand so he could hold onto the metal bar above the seat in front to manoeuvre his way out. Derek followed him, his head held high, glaring at other commuters who backed off slightly when they saw the look in his eyes. Stiles hardly noticed Derek's normal facial expression any more, because it was so different when looking at Stiles; the jaw was more relaxed, the lips almost smiling, the eyes wider and caring. He looked so much younger, so much more relaxed, so much happier.

"What's this party going to be like?" Derek asked as they made their way past Hunter College, following the same route Stiles had taken to Emily's yesterday.

"I dunno, it's not like I'm a maverick of society events." Stiles said, looking at Derek and smiling. It was cute to see the older man a little nervous. "I guess just a lot of old people talking about how rich they are." He shrugged his shoulders, "I guess you'll fit right in." Stiles laughed, trying to lift his own mood away from the slightly guilty feeling he had in his stomach from what he said about the party, it was Emily's family throwing it after all.

"Oh ha-ha." Derek said sarcastically, giving Stiles a playful shove.

"No seriously though, I really don't know. Something pretty fancy I guess if we have to wear all this fancy gear." He gestured to Derek's garment bag, which was slung over his shoulder. He couldn't wait to see Derek in the suit, there was something about suits that turned him on, and something about Derek that turned him on. The two together should be a catalyst for an unbelievably horny Stiles.

The door of the building was held open for Stiles and Derek as they approached, their shoes making a dull thud on the parquet floor as they headed for the elevators. Derek wasn't looking as amazed as Stiles did when he first saw the building, but from the movement of his eyes – which were darting from left to right, taking in the grandeur – Stiles knew he was impressed.

"Can I help you?" A young woman, probably in her twenties, asked Derek as they approached the elevators. She was stood to the side of the one Stiles had used last time, a clipboard in her hand.

"We're here for the party." Stiles told her, widening his eyes in irritation that she only had eyes for Derek. With a sultry gaze and a lick of her pink, glossy, lips she drew her eyes to Stiles, her expression changing from one of lust to one of boredom.

"Excuse me?" A bark of a laugh escaped her lips as she looked over Stiles, taking in his outfit and his awkward stance. A slight growl of anger from next to him worried him, he didn't want the girl getting torn limb from limb.

"Yeah, Stiles Stillinski, and this is Derek, my bodyguard." He laughed to himself at his lie, it was true that Derek looked like his guard, dark, brooding, strong, stood just slightly behind him, protecting his employer. In a way Derek was doing just that, he was ready to give this woman a taste of her own medicine if she laughed at Stiles again, or perhaps he'd just tear her annoyingly smug head from her shoulders.

"Oh – Mr. Stillinski, so sorry, go on up." She pulled a fountain pen from her bun and crossed Stiles' name off the list, cursing herself for not paying him more attention – she was on the lookout for a rich husband, this guy could have been that, but she only had eyes for his 'bodyguard'!

The beauty and extravagance of the apartment was not lost on Stiles, even though it was his second time visiting. He looked around again as he stepped out of the elevator, noticing the flowers had been replaced with more exciting red ones, that the cloakroom now had an attendant stood outside it, and that the upstairs bannister was now laced through with twinkling white fairy lights.

"Told you it was impressive." Stiles grinned at Derek, throwing his arms wide. "This is just my weekend place." He joked with a shrug, walking backwards into the centre of the room.

"Oh well I thank you for your hospitality." Stiles jumped as he realised that Derek's mouth wasn't moving. Turning around, following the voice, he grimaced when he saw that it was Emily's father.

"Just kidding." Stiles said, feeling like a fool, distracting himself by running a hand over his crew cut.

"Excited for the party?" Her father asked as he sipped his scotch.

"Sure, thanks for inviting me, or having me I suppose, you know because it was your wife who invited me." The man raised his eyebrows, wondering why the boy was such an awkward conversationalist.

"We're very happy to be here." Derek said, stepping across the room and taking Stiles' hand, trying to save him from the conversation.

"Oh, this must be the boyfriend Emily told us about." Stiles' eyes widened, his head turning to Derek quickly, worried that 'boyfriend' was a term Derek wasn't ready for quite yet.

"That's right. Derek Hale." Derek extended his hand to the man in front of him, both of them sizing the other up. Conrad Von Svaller saw a powerful man, both mentally and – judging by the muscles and the firm handshake – physically. He suddenly and inexplicably felt a great deal more respect for Stiles, he had thought the boy would have an equally lanky and awkward boyfriend as himself.

"Good to meet you, Derek. I see you brought a change of clothes from -" he angled his head so he could read what the garment bag said, "- ah, Rent-A-Tux." His lips curled up at the corners in amusement, as if renting a tuxedo was the height of humour.

"I need somewhere to get changed, if you don't mind." Derek asked, his hand now laced with Stiles' once more, who was feeling as if he was in the middle of a battle of wills, both men were staring at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away. He didn't get it, but he was glad Derek seemed to be winning whatever was going on.

"I'll help him change." Vivan, Emily's sister, said, her voice travelling across the double height foyer. All three of them turned to look as she crossed the room, as well as a few waiters and party planners who were striding through the room as they set up for the event. No one could help it, she looked devastatingly beautiful in her deep purple dress, which clung to every inch of her impossibly tiny frame, her white blonde hair piled up, a few curled tendrils escaping and running down the side of her face. Derek's eyes widened in appreciation, he had to admit she was very beautiful, though for him she paled in comparison to Stiles.

"Wonderful idea, Viv." Conrad said as he took his daughters hand. He knew what a sexual dynamo his little girl was, and it amused him to see if she could tempt this man – who he thought did not look gay at all, where were the pink heels and camp voice?

"Uh – well I better go find Emily." Stiles muttered, feeling like he was in a thirties movie where everyone – Derek, Conrad, Vivian – were all impossibly elegant and sure of themselves, while he was the homely cousin from Iowa. Even though Conrad and Vivian were fully dressed in black tie, Derek still measured up in his jeans and leather jacket, his presence, authority, and confidence made whatever he was wearing irrelevant.

"Actually you'll want Grayson, he has a suit for you." Conrad said, musing in his head how on earth his son – who was extremely athletic and well proportioned – and this boy were the same size. He didn't realise that while Stiles' clothes didn't emphasise his body, he was pretty impressive from lacrosse and jogging.

"Second door on the left upstairs." Vivian shot at him, turning her eyes back to Derek, looking over every inch of his body.

"Uh – okay. See you soon then." Stiles looked unsurely at Derek, who was holding his ground with Conrad and Vivian, meeting their looks at him. Stiles relaxed slightly when Derek squeezed his hand and gaze him a glance and a smile, letting him know his strange behaviour was nothing to do with Stiles.

Making his way upstairs, he glanced down and saw Derek being taken through a doorway with Vivian. He felt uneasy and he didn't know why. He knew Derek was hot, but he wasn't expecting every girl at the party to be gazing at him as if they just wanted him to tear of their clothes then and there. As if he sensed Stiles' mood, Derek looked up just before he disappeared through the doorway, catching Stiles eye and sticking his tongue out. Stiles burst out laughing, his mood lifting instantly, it was just such unexpected action from Derek. A few waiters glanced up, wondering why the boy on the stairs was laughing at seemingly nothing, but Stiles didn't care, he was still too amused. Still shaking his head and giggling every few seconds, Stiles made his way across the upstairs landing, knocking on the second door on the left.

"Stiles?" The boy behind it asked when it swung open. Stiles took in a sharp intake of breath – he was absolutely gorgeous, just like the rest of the family. Dark brown curls adorned the tanned, dimpled face of a Greek god, all white teeth, strong bone structure and twinkling brown eyes. Almost without realising it, Stiles' eyes travelled down his naked torso, which was covered with small droplets of water, unable to look away from the tight, muscled body of Grayson. He wasn't Derek muscular – those _big _muscles – he was closer to Stiles, tall and thin, with well defined abdominals and muscle covered arms which were heavily defined while still being thin. His obliques were strong, creating the V on his hips that Stiles loved. A towel covered his legs, tied hastily and low so that a few hairs could be seen creeping out before they narrowed into his happy trail.

"Uhh -" Stiles tried to speak, but his mouth was on the ground.

"At least I know I'm attractive to gay guys!" Grayson let out a loud, carefree laugh, throwing his head back. _Hey, that's my line. _Stiles thought sullenly. "Come in dude, I got out a suit for you." Grayson stepped back, purposefully positioning himself so Stiles was forced to brush up against his wet torso.

He stepped into a room similar to Emily's, but with blue above the white panels instead of cream.

"Thanks for helping me out, I've never needed a suit before." Stiles muttered, trying not to stare at the dimples above the guys ass as he did something on one of his shelves.

"No problem, I wanted to meet you anyway, Emily won't stop talking about her new friend." Grayson told him, turning his head over his shoulder and smiling, dimples forming in his cheeks. Stiles blushed, partly because the guy was so hot, partly because of his revelation that Emily had been talking about him. She really was a good friend.

"I came with my friend." Stiles tried to get control of himself, remembering the much hotter man who was waiting for him downstairs. Derek's words from the conversation with Conrad came back into his head at that moment. "Or, uh, you know, my boyfriend." Stiles smiled a shy smile to himself as he spoke, saying those words made his stomach turn – in a very good way.

"That's cool." He replied, pressing a button on his stereo and flooding the room with the sounds of Azealia Banks. "Can you pass me those briefs?" He gestured to the bed, where a pair of ironed, white briefs were laid out by some black socks. Stiles grabbed them, feeling a little weird holding another guys underwear, and threw them over to him. Grayson gave him another huge smile, amusement manifesting in his eyes, before he turned around, revealing the even cuter dimples than the ones in his face once more, and dropped his towel. Stiles' jaw hit the ground for the second time in five minutes. The ass in front of him was perfection, round and firm, the heavily worked out muscles defined. It was the tiniest glimpse – the next minute it was encased in white underwear, but that didn't do much to minimise Stiles arousal. The guy turned around, his bulge barely contained, throwing another smile at Stiles.

"Jeez." Stiles ran a hand over his head, turning away. He was infatuated with Derek, that much was true, and he would take his body – and his new and improved personality – over Grayson's any day, but it was hard not to get turned on when such a beautiful man was purposefully flaunting himself.

"Oh, sorry." Grayson said as he brushed himself against Stiles on his way to the closet, clearly not sorry at all. He was getting a kick out of showing himself off and making this guy feel uncomfortable.

"So, can I get the suit?" Stiles said quickly, not wanting – or wanting very much, which was the problem – to spend any more time in here than he had to.

"Yeah, yeah. Let me just see." He rooted around in his closet, coming out with a black tuxedo jacket, before he took the few steps back to Stiles and grabbed his arms, positioning them both so they stuck out from his body. Stiles now knew why Derek felt so awkward in the store earlier, though he was sure his was much worse. Or better.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked through his heavy breaths. Grayson was just a few inches in front of him, Stiles could see every perfect pore of his clear skin and smell the soap on him. It didn't help that he was still in his tight white underwear and nothing else.

"Just making sure we're compatible." His eyes – turned up from his huge smile – and Stiles' – wide in arousal and discomfort – were locked together. "No worries though, we fit perfectly." The innuendo behind his words was not lost on Stiles, who gulped.

"Uh – okay." The guy laughed at Stiles' words, breaking their strange moment as he pulled out two white dress shirts, another dinner jacket, and two pairs of perfectly pressed black pants.

Stiles changed with his back turned, he didn't want to reveal just how horny the guy had made him, so he never saw the guys curious eyes looking over Stiles' body. Grayson wasn't gay, he was bored, and Stiles seemed like a more than worthy choice for his first experience with a guy. Turning around a few minutes later, Stiles was ready – feeling like a fool. Grayson was ready too – feeling how he looked, perfect.

"You look great dude. Formal suits ya'." He came over to Stiles, far too close again, and began fastening the bow tie around his collar. "Even better!" He said when he finished doing up the bow tie with a flourish.

"Um – yeah, okay, thanks." Stiles was trying to catch his breath, he was so horny that he could jump on the guy right now, but thoughts of Derek still persisted in his mind, and he wanted to go downstairs and jump on him even more. "Can just use your bathroom?" Stiles asked, smiling appreciatively as he saw the guys face nodding in the mirror, where he was stood doing his own bow tie.

The bathroom was large and lavish, though very messy, with a huge tub that Stiles couldn't help but envy. Looking at himself in the mirror above the ornate sink which was surrounded by toothbrushes, deodorant, cologne, and coated with shaving foam and toothpaste that Grayson had not bothered to clean, Stiles had to blink twice to really believe he was looking at himself. If he held his face in repose – which he never did, he was always looking around, always blinking or talking or laughing – Stiles looked like he was the self assured and confident individual he wanted to be. The suit was very becoming, an almost perfect fit, emphasising Stiles' long, firm legs and narrow hips, grazing across his own tight chest. Stiles never saw these features of his body when he looked in the mirror, and it reflected by the clothes he wore; he saw a tall, awkward teenager, so he wore shirts just a little too big so they didn't stick to him, jeans that didn't fit just right as they should, and hoodys to cover it up. Derek's words earlier – in bed – had given him an ego boost, and now with this suit on he could understand what he meant.

"Damn, I look good." He said quietly, bemused. "I look freaking _good_!" He repeated, with a smile breaking his face open. He turned around to look from the back, blushing a little as he realised how good his ass looked in Grayson's pants, which clung to him before falling in straight lines to his ankles, kissing his thighs as they went. A knock on the door pulled him from the admiration of himself, though Grayson simply pushed it open before Stiles could get a chance to tell him to come in.

"Oh, no naked action in here, just admiring yourself?" Grayson said, cracking into another huge, amused smile and coming to stand next to Stiles, messing up his curls as he admired himself in the mirror, not shocked at all by how good he looked. The reflection showed two beautiful, impeccably dressed boys, and Stiles suddenly felt a huge wave of confidence – he looked just as good as Grayson did, plus he had a hot wolf man waiting for him downstairs.

"Thanks. This looks really good..." Stiles turned to the side, looking at the suit again.

"I'll say – you look sexy as hell man." The guy said it as a joke, but Stiles picked up on the sexual vibes. He hurried out of the bathroom, thanking Grayson again as he went and telling him he would see him downstairs, he needed to get out of there. If Grayson's blatant flirtation was to make Stiles horny, it was definitely working, but every time he thought of kissing the boy in front of him he morphed into Derek, which was so much better. Impossibly handsome Grayson had no chance against amazingly handsome Derek.

"You decent?" Stiles asked as he knocked on Emily's door, a little shocked when it flew open and a pale skinned, black clothed ball of energy threw itself into his arms.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here." Emily beamed at him, her perfect teeth surrounded as usual by red lipstick, though this time it was a deeper red. "You look so good, I hope Grayson wasn't too flirty, he does it with everyone. Where's Derek?" She asked as she looked behind Stiles, disappointed when she saw no one.

"Uh – me too, and thanks, and downstairs, Vivian's helping him get ready." Stiles smiled at her, laughing to himself at how she seemed to be taking a page from his book tonight. _Is everyone stealing my lines? First Grayson, now Emily is as excited as I usually am. _

"Oh no!" Emily clasped a hand onto her mouth, laughing. "Vivan's totally going to try and jump on him. In case you didn't get Grayson's usual flirt and flaunt of his body," she took his arm as they began walking downstairs, "you should know that my family are horny as hell and love to come onto anyone they see."

"Oh, I got the flirt." Stiles laughed, glad that he had came now that he saw how happy it made Emily.

"Derek?! Der-r-r-r-ek?!" Stiles jabbed at her ribs, embarrassed, as she began shouting down the stairs, drawing strange glances from the staff who were still mulling putting the finishing touches on the night, the first guests should be arriving any minute.

"Yes?" Derek asked as he appeared in the doorway of the living room, which had been cleared to make space for guests, and was serving as a reception room where people could drink and talk.

"Fuck." Stiles muttered under his breath, his arousal shooting up far higher than it had when Grayson had been stood naked in front of him. Derek looked beautiful in his tuxedo, his muscles emphasised, his frame powerful. It was a much lower quality garment than Stiles', which had cost more than his student loans, but it looked like it was worth a million bucks (Stiles thought cheesily) with Derek in it.

"That is a hot man." Emily muttered to Stiles, not realising she was fluffing out her hair a little and smiling seductively at Derek, her go to move when she saw someone she _liked_. Clearly she had a lot in common with her family.

"Yeah, and he's mine so back off." Stiles joked as he freed his arm from Emily's and walked over to Derek, not knowing if he should kiss him, hug him, or worship at his feet. Derek decided for him, transferring his drink – scotch – to his other hand, and clasping Stiles' with his now free one.

"You look fucking great, you were spot on about you looking '_freaking _hot'." Derek whispered, repeated Stiles' words to him, who had forgotten that Derek could hear everything he had been saying upstairs. Derek wanted to kiss Stiles, take him upstairs, and tear the clothes off his body, or even just start making out with him right here, but his mother had taught him that PDA – Public Displays of Affection – especially at events, was pretty tacky, so he contented himself with hand holding, that is, until he could get Stiles alone later.

"Nice to meet you." Emily said as she shook his hand, happy that her friend had bagged such a hot man.

"Likewise." Derek replied, a little stiffly, kind of wishing he could be nicer to strangers, especially ones that were Stiles' friends.

"Oh, darling, is this handsome man yours?" Stiles felt a delicate hand on his shoulder, smiling as Clarissa – Emily's mother, came into his view and stood beside him. "I'm Clarissa, so nice to meet you." She said to Derek, extended the same hand to him, her other firmly clutching a Martini. She had spent three hours getting ready tonight, and had emerged in an impossibly flattering, deep red gown. High necked and sleeveless, it emphasised her thin body and thin arms, which was heightened by her white blonde, drawn back hair, showing the delicate bones of her face in all their glory. White diamonds glittered in her ears, on her neck, and around her wrist. Perfect make up – done by her own make up artist – covered any imperfections on her face, of which they were few.

"Derek. Great place." He replied, his face motionless, returning to his usual surly expression, though at least it wasn't scowling.

"Not a talker I gather? No matter, I do love those strong silent types." She winked at Stiles, who smiled back, laughing a little. "You two do make a stunning couple, but I really must go and find Conrad so we can welcome the first guests."

"Okay," Stiles said as she began looking around for her husband, "and thanks for inviting me, and for loaning me the tux."

"Of course, sweetheart. Should be a fun party." At the bottom of the stairs, which she was about to head up to see if Conrad was in the bedroom, she turned, mischief glinting in her eyes, "let the games begin."


	10. Chapter 10

An hour had passed since the first guest – after Stiles and Derek – had arrived, and many guests were feeling the effects of the extremely potent cocktails that were being distributed by two waiters in formal jackets. Several other waiters moved around the room with trays loaded with the classic glasses of champagne, but any time a cocktail was tempted to a guest they took it – Clarissa's cocktails were legendary, and always ensured the body they went into had an amazing night.

Clarissa herself was holding court in the foyer, talking animatedly with a small group of friends. She wasn't the tallest woman in the group, and despite her beauty there were others who matched her, but she just stood a little taller; seemed a little more impressive than everyone else, and she knew it.

"- and I said to her, darling it may be Chanel but it looks more like it's from the five and dime store!" Clarissa finished her anecdote, the group around her laughing appropriately, happy just to have been invited to one of her parties.

"Oh and there's my daughters new friend, Stiles darling, come over here and introduce yourself." Stiles looked up from under his lashes, lowering the glass of champagne he had been drinking. He didn't think he would like it, but this was top of the line stuff, not the cheap and very tangy champagne he had once at one of his dads rare parties, when he had bought the cheap bottle – which had cost 75 dollars – thinking it was the height of sophistication.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Stiles said to the group as he approached, nodding a little awkwardly at them. They looked back at him appreciatively, liking the look at the smart young man in front of them, impeccably dressed in – many of the women noticed – a _very _pricey tux.

"Stiles is just the most darling boy, a recent addition to our fabulous city. Stiles this is John Sexton, the President of your school." She smiled up at Stiles – though it seemed more like she smiled down at him, she was so far out of his world – whilst grazing one hand against John Sexton's dinner suited arm, propelling them into a handshake.

"Uh – nice to meet you. I really love your school." Stiles mumbled, wondering how his fates had twisted to be attending an Upper East Side party with the President of New York University in attendance.

"Glad to hear that, Stiles." John replied, adding his name on the end in a deliberate show (to all those who knew him) that he approved, or at least thought this boy was important. No one in that group would argue with his assessment, anyone who knew Clarissa Von Svaller mattered in the world of high society.

"Emily tells me her and Stiles just love NYU, though to be honest," Clarissa grasped John's arm in a friendly embrace, "we would have preferred her at Yale. She got early admission but you know Emily, she wants what she wants!"

"Just like my daughter, Marissa." A well preserved heiress in her fifties said, looking over Stiles body with lust in her eyes, wondering if her Investment Banker husband would be working late tonight.

"Your Marissa is a hot little thing, ain't she? How is she enjoying Dartmouth?" A grotesquely fat man in the most expensive suit in the room asked. Everyone tolerated him because he was so rich.

Stiles stopped listening to their conversation, simply nodding and smiling now and then when everyone else did, his eyes scanning the packed room for Derek, who he knew was not here, he would have spotted him immediately.

"You know Stiles, John has some great opportunities that I'm sure you could benefit from." Clarissa told him, knowing he wasn't listening and grabbing his arm in a seemingly friendly embrace, her grip a little tighter than usual, jolting him back to life. "He does hold The Office of the President after all, I'm sure you'd just love to help Stiles, wouldn't you?" Clarissa gave John one of her best smiles, usually reserved for when she was trying to convince people to help her family.

"Oh of course, I'll get my secretary to hunt you down on Monday and we can have a meeting." John smiled.

"You should make a note, dear." Clarissa insisted. John obeyed.

"Hi." Stiles felt something on his arm, and was a little disappointed when he turned to see Emily, not Derek. "Why are you stood with these clowns?" She asked quietly, looking around at the group he was with, her mother shooting her a don't-start-anything look. "They're so _old_." Emily giggled.

"Emily, so nice of you to join us." John Sexton said he shook her hand before jotting down another note to hook this girl up with some opportunities at the school, it could help his own society rise after all.

"Yes, Emily. You look divine." A famous socialite decked out in a gaudy amount of diamonds told Emily, wishing she was still as thin as that.

"Aw, shucks." Emily joked, doing a little twirl for the group, the chiffon under the skirt of her dress fanning out a little. She was wearing a couture, floor length black lace creation by Yves Saint Laurent, which clung to every inch of her body on top and all the way down to her wrists, before fanning out slightly at the bottom, which was covered by more lace, letting the dress breath a little as she walked.

Stiles loved Emily, and was extremely grateful for being invited to the party, but he could feel his eyes drooping slightly, it wasn't exactly his scene – he was more interested in either spending the night in (hopefully with Derek) or going to a keg rager (again hopefully with Derek).

"I just saw Derek in the other room, looking bored." Emily told him as she turned back to Stiles after explaining her dress to a Texan beauty queen whom no one wanted there, but had to put up with because her husband was very well connected politically.

"I'm gonna go find him. Excuse me everyone." Stiles nodded to the group, giving Clarissa a smile, and even bowing slightly, which he cursed himself for as he walked away, _they probably thought I was an idiot, a bow?! Good going Stillinski. _

Stiles wished Emily had been more specific when she said 'the other room', after all there were a lot of rooms in this place, and Stiles found himself wandering in and out of many of them, passing through the formal living room which was clouded in cigarette smoke, through the dining room where someone playing a game of poker had just won one hundred thousand dollars, and finally into the library, which seemed to be where the younger group was hanging out, sans Derek.

"Stiles!" Vivian shouted, sat on the fourth rung of the ladders which could be used to get books at the top.

"Hi. You enjoying yourself?" Stiles asked her as he crossed the room, feeling less awkward than he would with any one else in the room because he had already met Vivian, and she seemed pretty nice.

"Not really. Where's your hot man?" She asked, a smirk on her lips. She had undressed in front of Derek earlier as she took him into the den to change, unzipping her dress and standing in her naked glory in front of him.

"That's what I'm wondering too." Stiles mused as he glanced around the room, happy to see a more relaxed atmosphere here, guys had their dinner jackets off and dress shirt sleeves rolled up as they downed glasses of champagne in what were clearly very upper class drinking games. Back in Beacon Hills it was who could take the most from the keg without vomiting. A boy who must have been around Stiles' age – 18 or 19 – walked in from the French doors leading to the balcony with a potted plant in his hands, clearly drunk and laughing hysterically.

"Oh God not the plants. I never got that obsession with bringing balcony plants inside..." Vivian mused, sipping her vodka. "Derek's out there by the way." She added, seeing how dejected Stiles was as he looked around for Derek.

"What? Where?" Stiles asked quickly, suddenly perking up. She pointed her painted red nails towards the balcony, sending Stiles shooting off. He weaved through the tuxedo clad teenagers, none of whom even looked twice at him – he just looked like them – until he got to the balcony. It was a big space, separated down the middle by a series of potted plants containing five foot yews. He could see a dark head of hair over the top of them, and headed for it, dodging a table and chairs and slipping through the space where the plant the was now in the library was supposed to be. A relieved sigh left his lips when he saw Derek stood at the edge of the balcony, resting against the balustrade. Derek smiled when he looked up and saw Stiles, he had been feeling a lot like Stiles had, wanting to be with him instead of at this party.

"Thank god." Stiles said breathlessly as he crossed the balcony, hopping over a wooden table surrounded by low, comfortable chairs and embracing Derek. "I've been looking for you for ages, it's boring as shit inside." Stiles said as he rested his head on Derek's shoulder, his arms wrapped around his back.

"I thought you would be having fun so I came out here. I know you wanted to come." Derek looked up sheepishly, feeling a little stupid for not going to find Stiles himself. He felt like he should have known Stiles was having as lousy a time as he was. "This just isn't my idea of a good party." Happy that they felt the same, Stiles planted a kiss on his lips.

"Me neither. I didn't know what to expect, I just wanted to come to support Emily, and to please their mom."

"What I really want is to be back in your bed." Derek told him in a low voice, kissing Stiles' neck, sucking hard. A soft red spot was left when he was done.

"Don't tempt me." Stiles grinned, loving how Derek couldn't keep his hands – or lips – off him. It made his stomach feel all funny when Derek touched him, it was something he had never experienced, but something he never wanted to lose.

"I'm gonna go get another drink." Stiles said with a sigh, holding up his empty glass. He definitely needed a _lot _more if he was going to get through the next few hours. "Come on." Stiles told Derek, who widened his eyes a little at Stiles' command.

"Okay boss." Derek said with a grin, taking Stiles' hand as they headed back to the library. A few people slurred welcomes as they walked back through the doors – one of which now had a broken pane of glass – as Stiles and Derek simultaneously wondered why everyone was so drunk, it was only ten past eight.

"These kids can't drink to save their lives." Stiles flinched a little, in shock, as he heard the voice at his ear, and soon found himself looking into the face of Grayson, still looking gorgeous, a glass of champagne in his hand.

"I'm Grayson. You must be the boyfriend." He extended his long hand, looking quizzically at Derek's scowl. "Not that you look queer or anything, oh shit that's probably an even worse thing to say, I mean it's pretty obvious by the hand holding." He looked around, a little flustered now, as Derek continued his scowl. Stiles enjoyed seeing Grayson sweat a little, perhaps it was karma from the show of his body he put on for Stiles earlier.

"This is Derek, he's a mute who communicates through interpretive dance." Stiles told Grayson, his face deadpan. Grayson laughed, but stopped when he saw the look on both of their faces, Stiles had taken a page from Derek's book and was hardly moving.

"Shit, are you serious? I'm so sorry..." Grayson looked confused and uncomfortable.

"No, you idiot." Stiles laughed, the champagne making him a little more sociable. Even Derek's mouth turned up a little, though when Grayson caught his eye it turned back to a scowl. Derek had heard everything Grayson had been saying to Stiles earlier. The one that really got him was _'pass me those briefs'. _Derek was still trying to figure the guy out, he wanted to just beat the answers out of him, but he knew Stiles wouldn't like him killing his best friends brother.

"Well, good to meet you anyway." Grayson tried extending a hand again, but Derek held both of his up with a shrug, one with a scotch in, one clasped with Stiles'. He wasn't willing to free either.

"Wait!" Stiles shouted when he saw a waiter wander into the room, who looked straight forward as if teenagers weren't doing all manner of bad things. Letting go of Derek's hand he ran through the crowd, trying to catch up, leaving Derek and Grayson stood awkwardly together.

"So Stiles seems pretty nice, you got a good catch there." Grayson told Derek as he averted his gaze from Stiles running ass, wandering what it would be like to touch another guys junk, and wandering if Stiles was still an option now that he had met this huge, clearly grouchy boyfriend of his.

"Yes." Derek replied, downing his scotch and putting it onto a side table before he stepped closer to Grayson, their faces almost touching. If Grayson had been having thoughts about trying something with Derek, they vanished instantly, despite how close they were the moment was not erotic in the slightest, he was actually scared. "And if you ever flirt with him again, or I hear you asking him to pass you fucking underwear, I'll tear your head off. He's my boyfriend, got it?" Derek somehow made the word 'boyfriend' sound sinister, there was nothing cute or sweet about what he said. Grayson did a classic movie style gulp, his glass shaking from his nervous hand.

"Finally got it!" Stiles shouted happily as he worked his way back to them with a fresh drink in his hand. Derek stepped back from Grayson just before Stiles got there. "So what did I miss?" He asked with a huge grin, taking a gulp of champagne. Derek looked at Grayson knowingly, who thought he saw his eyes flash red for just a fraction of a second.

"I would also like to thank my beautiful wife, Clarissa, for arranging such a wonderful event." Polite applause followed Conrad's words as he finished his speech, smiling at his wife, who stood beside him looking regal and beautiful. "Now, if you would, please enjoy the sounds of members of the New York Philharmonic." A few musicians, who had been sat behind Conrad, erupted into classical music as he stepped back into the room proper, greeting a few close friends with handshakes and hugs.

"Pretty good." Derek said, nodding a little as he stood by the door with Stiles on one side, who was talking quietly to Emily.

"But I _told _him not to come here!" Emily fretted, taking a huge gulp of her cocktail. "We broke up weeks ago, but he said he wanted me back, and now he's here!"

"Where?" Stiles asked, stroking her arm and trying to calm her down. She had been stressed out as soon as her ex-boyfriend had walked into the party half an hour ago, his eyes constantly searching for her. Hiding behind a waiter had enabled her to reach the living room, where she was now stuck because she couldn't bare to face him. Her eyes kept scanning the foyer beyond the open doors, where a few guests were stood talking.

"Oh God, I think I'm gonna have a panic attack." She clutched her chest dramatically, finishing the remainder of her drink in one long gulp. Stiles had to resist the urge to laugh, she was just being so over the top. He looked to his right, giving Derek an amused smile, who returned it before listening to the music again.

"Why don't you just tell him to leave?" Stiles asked.

"I can't! Well, at least not until I've had another fifty drinks." She grabbed a second cocktail from a waiter, taking another one as an afterthought.

"When do you want to go?" Derek muttered to Stiles. He was bored now. The music was enjoyable, but he would rather be back in bed. Going to the next stage of their sexual exploration was on Derek's mind ever since Stiles had slyly slipped it into their conversation an hour or so ago, and now his whole body was hot in anticipation of the exploration Stiles said he wanted to do to him.

"Well I _want _to go now, but we have to stay till the auction at least." Stiles shrugged coyly, acting as if there was nothing more pressing for them to be doing.

"You _know _there's something better for us to do at home." Derek said through gritted teeth, staring at Stiles with lust in his eyes. Stiles' heart jumped a little when he heard Derek call his apartment 'home', but he didn't dwell on it for long, the effect he had on Derek, and Derek on him, eliminated the cutesey thoughts and replaced them with a desire for sex. A sharp intake of breath passed Derek's lips when he felt Stiles' hand on his crotch, which started to grow quickly. Good job he was wearing black.

"Are you even listening?!" Emily shouted, her words very slightly slurred.

"Of course." Stiles gave Derek's crotch a squeeze before he let go, fingers brushing across his thigh.

"There he is!" Emily used Stiles as a human shield as she watched her ex, who looked around the room searching for her.

"Just go tell him to leave." Derek growled at her, wanting Stiles all to himself. She jumped a little in shock, she had hardly spoken to him all night, but something about his determined gaze manifested inside her, suddenly, he had made her feel determined too.

"You know what, I will! Thanks Derek." She turned to him, throwing herself into his arms, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. Stiles guffawed when he saw Derek's expression of confusion and horror. _Doesn't she know he only lets me do that?_

"Uh – it's fine." Derek told her, trying to pry himself out of her arms. He noticed Stiles trying to hold in his laughter and shot him a look reminiscent of those he used to throw at him back in Beacon Hills. Stiles stopped immediately.

"You know, Stiles told me how nice you were, but I didn't really believe him." Tears sparkled in her eyes as she spoke. Clearly the cocktails were more potent than Clarissa would have her guests believe. "But you really are _so _nice!" She gave him a kiss on the cheek, forcing him to flinch involuntarily. With a last look at Derek, and kiss on Stiles' cheek, she strode towards her boyfriend, throwing her hair back and preparing herself.

"Told you she was nice." Stiles said with a lopsided grin as they watched her throw the the extra cocktail she had picked up in his face, drawing looks of horror from the other guests, before slapping him and practically throwing him into the elevator, all the while screaming obscenities.

"Yeah, a real ball of fun..." Derek cut himself off as he felt Stiles' hand once again grabbing his crotch.

"Now she's gone to take care of him we can pick up where we left off." Stiles grabbed Derek's arm, leading him into the foyer and then down a hallway where a drunk guest was napping on a chaise lounge against the wall.

"Where are we-" Derek started to ask, his question falling flat as Stiles' lips locked with his, his other hand fumbling around with the handle of a door behind him. Derek didn't need to ask where once Stiles had dragged him through into the tiny linen closet behind him, he just smiled instead. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well... it's kind of small in here." Derek muttered lamely, he _wanted _to be with Stiles, the linen closet was actually kind of hot to him, as it was to Stiles.

"Good. It means we can be closer." Stiles said breathlessly, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking his shoes off, appreciatively listening to Derek doing the same thing as their lips clashed together, stubble grazing against smooth cheeks, noses brushing together, their hands roaming over each others bodies.

"Why are these shirts so tight..." Derek cursed, trying to get his hands inside Stiles' but only being able to manoeuvre his way to the small of his back.

"I thought it made me look good. And you." Stiles broke off the kiss for just a second to speak, his lips turning up in a smile, skin still touching Derek's, who could feel the smile breaking his own face.

"Here." Stiles moved his hands off of Derek and attempted to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, his fingers shaking a little from nerves, excitement, and anticipation.

"Move." Derek growled, his frustration bubbling forward as he watched Stiles attempting to open each button but failing miserably on each attempt. He kissed Stiles again, not needing to see the buttons, just popping each one free with a skilled, quick hand, till Stiles was stood with the open shirt hanging from his shoulders, his body finally exposed for Derek. Derek stroked his hands across the smooth, taut skin for a few seconds before he undid his own buttons, both of them groaning as they finally pressed their exposed torsos together. It was as if an electric field had appeared between their chests, low moans escaping either lips whenever they rubbed together, Stiles groaning the most as Derek's muscle pressed against him.

"Take these off..." Stiles said as he fumbled with the button on Derek's pants, one hand still wrapped around the man in front of him, their lips still locked together, tongues wandering onto each others. He let his hand wander over the huge, hard bulge that was straining the material as he attempted to undo the second of two buttons, his fingers shaking.

"Fuck." Derek let out a groan of relief as Stiles yanked down his pants and boxers, the dick beneath springing out, finally freed from a painful prison. Stiles stepped back for just a second, catching his breath, looking over Derek with his shirt hanging from his shoulders, his pants pooled around his waist, his member sticking out, begging to be touched. He took a massive breath, the thing was huge, definitely bigger than his own, he had felt it, of course, but it was one thing feeling a cock through underwear or pants and another thing entirely seeing it in all its glory in the half light of a linen closet.

"You look amazing." Derek muttered, seeing Stiles staring at his impressive body and growth, hoping it hadn't gave his boosted confidence a kick. Stiles was more than average in the dick department, but Derek was a freak of nature.

"I don't know if I can take it." Stiles giggled, champagne coming up as he let out a hiccup. The cuteness of it all was too much for Derek. He crossed the closet in one stride, pushing Stiles up against a wall of shelves, which shook as the two boys collided with it, a few towels falling from their positions as Derek pressed his body against Stiles, who writhed around in ecstasy beneath him, the shelves taking the toll of their passion.

"You can." Derek told him as he began biting as his neck, loving the moans that greeted him as he bit down lightly on the white skin. A part of his mind told him to be considerate of Stiles' inexperience, but his dominant side was in full swing and he couldn't bring himself to allow Stiles not to at least try.

"I know." Stiles breathed, a little unsurely, as he took hold of Derek's jaw and lifted him from nibbling on his collarbone, leaning in for a kiss before he started kissing Derek's neck, trying to repeat what Derek had done to him in bed earlier, partly because he had never done anything like this before and partly because it had felt _amazing_.

"Holy shit..." Derek whimpered as Stiles went to work on his nipples, his hands roaming around on Derek's back, grazing the contours of his muscles, the slightly raised patch where his tattoo was, skimming his ribs before moving to the front and tracing his abdominals with his fingers, his touch light but persistent. He kept repeating what Derek had done to him, though in some places he bit down a little harder when Derek's moans weren't as loud as he would have liked, some places he kissed just a little longer, covering every beautiful muscle as he moved down, eventually ending up on his knees, Derek's cock just a few inches from his face.

"Damn..." Stiles muttered, thinking for a second how unfair it was, before he took hold of his member, the other snaking around Derek's muscular hips, dangerously close to his ass. He held it for a second, half admiring, half not knowing what to do. He let instinct take over as he licked the head, tasting the slightly tangy but surprising pleasant taste of his pre-cum, letting his other hand engulf the shaft as he took another tentative taste.

"Oh fuck Stiles." Derek muttered from above, his eyes closed, flashing open every now and again to take in the unbelievable sight of Stiles on his knees in front of him. He had his hands on his shoulders, fingers every now and then stroking his hair, trying to resist the urge to push Stiles down and make him take it all like he usually did with his conquests. But Stiles wasn't just a regular conquest.

"How is it?" Stiles asked between a smile, hoping he was doing okay but knowing he was by the moans on Derek's lips. Derek didn't respond, he just guided Stiles' head back to his cock with a huge smile on his face. Finally drawing up the courage to actually take it onto his mouth he opened his lips as wide as he could, marvelling at how it felt as he slipped the head of Derek's cock into his mouth, followed by part of his long shaft. As his mouth took in more and more, he let his tongue go crazy, not really knowing if he was doing it right but just doing what he thought would have felt good on himself. He could hardly remember how Derek had made it so good yesterday, he had been so horny it was like he got amnesia when he came. His head started bobbing up and down as he got used to taking more and more, letting it graze on the inside of his cheek as he forced it into his mouth, almost smiling at how easy and enjoyable it was, but resisting when he realised his smile might force his teeth down on Derek.

"Oh my fucking god." Derek's moans from above let Stiles know he was doing it right, his body and mind relaxing as he realised he was pleasing him. He had felt Derek's hands on the back of his head, pushing down a little before Derek's restraint took over, but he knew he wanted Stiles to take more it it. With little effort, Stiles moved down further, grabbing Derek's ass with both hands from behind and driving the cock deeper into his mouth, his throat soaking it to about the half way point as he tried to take more of it.

"Stiles, you don't have too..." Derek whispered, praying that he would ignore him. Which he did. Derek bucked his hips a little in response, holding Stiles head down for a few seconds and he let him get used to it, wincing as he forced him down further and heard him gag.

"I'm fine." Stiles smiled up at him as he came off for a second, focusing on the head again as he got over the shock of gagging, trying to lubricate his throat as he went to work. He rubbed his hands over any part of his body he could reach as he sucked and bobbed up and down, hands tracing his hips, his thighs, his abs, his ass. Derek's body was on fire, and after a few minutes he thrust Stiles down onto him again, letting him come up as soon as he felt a slight resistance before pushing him back to wherever he felt comfortable again, getting a little further and a little faster each time, his pushing slowing and the buck of his hips increasing as he forced himself in and out of Stiles' beautiful mouth.

"Oh, yeah." Derek moaned as Stiles took nearly all of his cock in his mouth, a few fingers covering the last few inches of shaft. As Stiles was forced – or not, half of it was his own initiative – up and down, he let his tongue lick up and down the shaft, pressing into the sensitive underside before tracing as much of the head he could in the second that it was available, loving how Derek whimpered and moaned above him in anticipation of the next second, and the next, and the one after. He tried to force more down him as he felt Derek's body tensing, his orgasm imminent, but he couldn't get it down without gagging.

"Fuck!" Derek shouted, taking his hands off Stiles' head, giving him a chance to move as the orgasm built up inside him, but Stiles was determined to return the favour Derek had given him earlier, and kept on going, licking and sucking, once even biting down slightly, a little shocked when Derek let out a long, deep moan above him and he felt his mouth being filled up with the salty substance, thrown off slightly when he kept swallowing but more kept coming, the drawn out moan from above continuing until he felt the cock, still in his mouth, deflating.

"Phew!" Stiles said with a smile, letting the dick out of his mouth a little reluctantly, he hadn't really expected being the one giving head to be so good for him as well as Derek. He sat back, legs folded over beneath him, looking up at Derek from under his lashes, a white smear coming from the corner of his mouth and dripping onto his chin.

"You're a natural." Derek said with a satisfied smile as he dropped down to Stiles' level, not bothering to pull up his trousers. He traced the white on Stiles' face with his fingers, coming in for a kiss, his mouth cleaning up the excess, turning himself on as he tasted himself on the lips of his lover. Stiles lifted himself up a little, straddling Derek as they kissed, wanting nothing more than to make a bed out of the fallen towels and go to sleep with their bodies entwined. Their arms wrapped around respective bodies, heads resting on each others shoulders as they just held each other for a moment, Derek's lips tracing light kisses across the bones of Stiles' shoulder.

"We have to go back..." Derek muttered after they had been sat like that for a while, neither one wanting to leave the comfort of the others arms and return to the party.

"No, no, no." Stiles kissed Derek's neck with syllable, his hands tracing unknown patterns in his back, thighs tightly clamped around Derek's.

"C'mere." Derek lifted his hands from Stiles' waist with a pang of sadness, starting to do up the buttons on his white shirt as Stiles sighed and did the same to him, his fingers much more assured now that his nerves had abated. Derek stood up, pulling his underwear and pants back over his semi-hard arousal, tucking the shirt in as he did the two buttons and zipped his fly.

"Shit, I don't know how to do these." Stiles held up the bow tie, looking at Derek with wide eyes, hoping he knew how.

"Me neither." They both laughed, Derek leaving his top button open and flinging the bow tie around the collar while Stiles left his own button open but tucked the bow tie away into his pocket with his phone and keys.

"That was amazing." Stiles said, grabbing Derek's arm just before he opened the door and drawing him back in for another long, passionate kiss. With a sigh from both of them and a turn of the handle, they headed back into the party, fully satisfied.

The party was in full swing when they left. It seemed that limitless wealth did not inhibit drinking, in fact, Stiles thought, it had accelerated it. May of the guests who had arrived looking impeccable earlier were now looking a little worse for wear, though their smiles made up for it. Laughter filled each room as they strode through, passing the more serious and sober formal living room, where Clarissa – ever the diligent hostess, not allowing herself to get drunk – was entertaining her guests with stories. He caught her eye, blushing as she raised her eyebrows while looking over the slight flush in his cheeks, the missing bow tie, and the self satisfied smile on his face.

A few guests were stood waiting for the elevator, coats wrapped around them, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

"People are leaving, lets go." Derek squeezed Stiles' hand, desperate to go to sleep. Stiles had utterly drained his energy, and he was desperate to crawl into bed with him.

"Let me just go say bye to Emily." Stiles returned the squeeze, rushing off to the library to see if Emily was there. A good fifteen minutes passed before he returned, Derek tapping his feet in frustration as he leaned against the wall, watching three lots of guests descend in the elevator.

"Finally." A snarl was on his lips.

"Jeez, I couldn't find her, come on." Stiles grabbed his hand as they slipped into the elevator, which was about to close and descend for guests on another floor. Blissfully the small box was empty, Derek immediately pushing Stiles up against the wall, both of them laughing as several buttons lit up, pushed by Stiles' arching back.

The doorman hailed the two of them a cab as they stood by the doors, under the shelter of the awning to protect them from the rain.

"Where too?" The cab driver asked as they slipped in the back, his rugged face creeping in through the cab in the perspex between the front and back.

"West Village." Stiles told him as he sank back into the worn leather, feeling his own weariness overcoming him. Derek took his hand between them, neither speaking much except to comment on something trivial, watching the rain as they drove, their driver thankfully avoiding some of the gridlocked streets. Derek paid the fare as they pulled up outside the apartment building, ignoring the twenty Stiles was holding up, smiling warmly at him as he slipped Stiles hood up (he had grabbed the hoody from Grayson's room before he left) his fingers brushing against his waist as they jogged to the door.

Twenty minutes later the two of them were ready for bed, having both brushed their teeth with Stiles' toothbrush and stripping off, leaving the window open so they could hear the sound of the rain, occasionally interrupted by voices from the below or from cars splashing through the streets.

"I'm glad you came tonight." Stiles muttered as he stroked Derek's damp hair.

"Mm." The soft grunt was the only reply, Derek felt so relaxed with his head on Stiles, chest, his naked leg thrown over the younger boy, fingers slowly circling the skin of his hips as he laid there, breathing in his scent.

"You know I'm a virgin." His eyes were drooping, his mind relaxing.

"I know." Derek replied slowly, neither of them moving.

"You don't mind?" Stiles asked quietly, his eyes opening just an inch.

"No." It was all Stiles needed to hear. He had already known the answer on some unconscious level, but finally saying it meant that Derek knew almost everything about him, at least in terms of sexual experience. He couldn't have wished for a better teacher, a better lover, a better friend.


	11. Chapter 11

Monday morning dawned bright and early with the blaring of Stiles' alarm at 7:00AM. His usual grunts and groans when he woke up were amplified by having to leave Derek's warmth once more.

"Up, up." Derek nudged him, already having been awake for ten minutes, he always got up early, usually working out for a few hours before he started his day.

With a groan Stiles rose from the bed, stretching before making his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he started up the shower. He couldn't resist running into the bedroom, toothpaste dripping down his chin, and kissing Derek, who got it all over his face, the smile never leaving his face as he watched Stiles, wondering how it was possible for someone to be so cute but so sexy at the same time.

"Where's the nearest gym?" Derek asked as he stretched his arms above his head. Stiles absently mused that he would need to work out a lot to have such definition.

"Check this." Stiles threw his Mac onto the bed as he headed for the shower. Typing 'gym' into google maps, hundreds of points appeared on the local map of New York that appeared. He clicked through a few pages, trying to find somewhere that looked decent, getting more and more frustrated as he scrolled through the map to see hundreds more red dots appearing.

"Stiles! Come pick one of these." Derek pushed the laptop roughly away, the thin silver machine teetering dangerously close to the edge.

"Watch it!" Jumping onto the bed, Stiles pulled the Mac back, holding it close to his chest. "This is a precious, delicate machine. You have to treat it like it's your lover." He blushed as he remembered that he _was _Derek's lover, the memory of him trusting in and out of Stiles' mouth coming back to him.

"Shut up." Derek grinned, knowing what Stiles was thinking about.

"Here." Stiles peered at the screen, clicking the first dot that caught his eye. "David Barton Gym. Sounds nice." Stiles shrugged , looking through a few glossy photos of the place before handing it back to Derek, who quickly mapped out a route.

"What time do you finish?" He watched as Stiles rooted through his boxes for some sign of any clothes, not finding any and eventually throwing Derek's hoody on with nothing underneath, and jeans with no underwear.

"Three I think, I dunno. I have my first real class today, soon I'll be a master of film."

"You gotta clean those clothes." Derek gestured to the three black bags full of laundry he had piled up a few days ago, covering his arousal with a sheet as he thought about how easily Stiles could be stripped in just two pieces of clothing.

"I'll take them later. What are you gonna do, bum around all day?" He joked, transferring his phone, wallet, and keys from Grayson's tuxedo pants, which were rumpled on the floor, to his jeans. Asking his question made him wonder what Derek actually _did. _He had never done much in Beacon Hills except work out, fight, and hurt people – mainly Stiles.

"Work out. Walk. Read. I dunno." Derek shrugged, actually wondering himself what he would do now he had no outstanding vendettas to fulfil, no one to kill, scare, or maim, and no Stiles to hang out with. He got out of bed himself, glancing over at Stiles who was doing a lame dance around the kitchen, slipping bread into the toaster and boiling the kettle so they could have coffee, scooping some instant granules into two cups – he hadn't got around to buying a coffee maker yet. Fishing some black jogging bottoms and white t shirt from the backpack he had given Stiles clothes from yesterday, Derek headed into the bathroom.

Stiles could taste the toothpaste on his lips when he came out - face cleaned and clothes on - ten minutes later, leaning into Stiles for a kiss, who was absently scrolling through news pages on his phone while munching on a slice of dark, almost black toast between mouthfuls of lukewarm coffee. Packing one of Stiles hand towels into his bag without needing to ask and spraying deodorant under his arms, Derek glanced up nervously,

"Shall I meet you after or, something..." He didn't waver his eyes, but Stiles knew he was a little nervous about the answer.

"No I think we should spend a few days apart." Stiles continued to munch on his toast, not looking up, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, mentally wincing when he glanced up and saw Derek's slack jaw. "Kidding, god!" A smile broke his face open, unable to keep up the joke for more than a few seconds.

"You can't do that." A smile broke his face as he leaned over and kissed Stiles, ripping a piece off his toast and heading out to the gym. Derek walked slowly to Bleecker Playground, admiring the streets, the noise, the people. Cities weren't the best place for a wolf with extremely heightened senses, the noise could be unbearable if he let his guard down, but Derek's self control was legendary, and he had learnt long ago how to block out any noises he didn't want to hear. If he focused hard enough, he could still hear Stiles humming on the staircase of the apartment a block away, smiling to himself as he dodged commuters on 8th Avenue. The sidewalk outside 14th Street Station, halfway down the street, was jammed, so he took a left on West 15th Street, jogging down in the opposite direction to the light traffic, before heading down 7th Avenue, narrowly missing a cab and a huge red truck, their horns blaring. Considerations of stopping and giving them his classic wolf glare passed through his mind, but he was trying to change that attitude, deciding to just keep on jogging till he reached the gym. He needed to get a workout in, Stiles had been taking up his time lately, even when he wasn't with him he was thinking about him.

Just a few streets away, in similar fashion to Derek, Stiles was strolling along the pavement, throwing an apple up in the air and catching it as he hummed, wondering if Derek would meet some hot man at the gym and cheat on him, laughing to himself when he realised (or at least hoped with strong conviction) that it would never happen. Derek had made his feelings for Stiles very, very clear, and neither one of them wanted to do anything to jeopardise their relationship.

"Stiles!" Turning, he saw Emily running towards him, clearly she had ended up back at her apartment building after last night. She looked tired but good, her hair scraped back into a ponytail with Gucci sunglasses covering her bloodshot eyes, wearing some very expensive black leather pants and a thick black coat with the golden buttons done up haphazardly over a loose white shirt, an Hermes bag slung over her shoulder, college binder peeping out of the top.

"Thank God, I've been shouting you for hours." Grabbing his hand, she guided him over to a coffee cart. "I need caffeine if I'm gonna be able to survive today. Want one?"

"Sure."

"Two lattes, please." The sunglasses stuck on her face as she spoke made her feel pretentious, but she couldn't bare to face the light.

"You were pretty wrecked last night." Stiles commented as they continued their walk to NYU, sipping the searing hot coffees.

"I'm glad, at least I got Jason out of my life. I don't think that Brooks Brothers shirt will get the red cocktail stains out any time soon." Laughing to herself, she took Stiles' arm, thoughts of guilt flashing into her head for just a second before she buried them deep inside.

"Who do you have first?"

"Miles. History of Film." She winced as she realised she would be watching films for hours, probably having to keep her glasses on. "You?"

"Walker. Photography. Probably be a boring introduction lecture, though." He gave her a half smile, wishing he could just get into the nitty gritty of his courses instead of having to go through Registration week and the surely boring first few lectures.

"I'll meet you after this class and we can go get lunch." She squeezed his arm before heading to the elevators. "Watch it, asshole!" He heard her shout in the distance, looking around to see her holding her arms up as a student scrambled around on the ground picking up the books he had dropped when he walked right into her, Stiles smiled, remembering the similar way they had met.

His first lecture was packed. Taking a seat three rows from the pack and setting his backpack down next to him he looked around at the other students, a little disappointed that he wasn't in one of those huge, circular, multi tier rooms you see in the movies. The people around him seemed pretty normal, a few talking on their phones, a few doodling in pads, a few talking amongst themselves.

"Hi." A guy said as he slipped into the seat next to Stiles, one of the only ones left in the room. A wide smile broke his face open, the fringe that fell almost into his eyes bobbing as he shook Stiles' hand.

"I'm Stiles." He told him as he leaned over to get some paper from his bag.

"Max. Nice to meet you." They looked at each other for a few seconds, both feeling a little awkward. "My mom said I should just introduce myself, you know to get to know people, cos' I kind of have a hard time making friends."

"My dad said the same thing but I didn't actually dare do it." Stiles laughed, the mood lightening immediately.

"But I wanna make movies, so I kind of need some social skills to talk to actors and stuff." The guy shrugged his wide shoulders, the thin body beneath the white t shirt emblazoned with a black fist doing a little dance.

"I still dunno what I want to do." He confided, shrugging himself. He still had no idea why he picked Film Studies as his course, though the fact that he was off his Adderall at the time gave him a fleeting suspicion. He had been obsessed with film for the year before he applied for college, just when the wolf stuff settled down a little and he needed something to fill his days.

"What are you doing after class?" Max asked, his expression hopeful.

"Getting lunch with Emily, my friend." Stiles explained, looking away with a guilty feeling in his stomach, the guy clearly wanted friends. "Want to come?"

After eating lunch with Emily and Max, who had got along well enough, even though Max had looked a little weary of Emily, who reeked of money even more than usual today in all her designer clothes – mainly to take attention off how hungover she was – Stiles headed to his second and last lecture, which was apparently a screening of one of last years students movies to show the quality of work they should aspire too. Slipping into a seat on the fourth row he realised he was early, only a few students were sat in the room, most of them texting. His own phone was soon in his hands, quickly going to Derek's name and tapping out a text.

_'Missing you' _He typed, feeling cheesy, _'I finish in two and a half hours, meet me.' - 12:19PM. _He had a question mark on the end, but after a second of thought he deleted it, remembering how Derek liked it when Stiles asserted some authority.

_'Ill meet you in washington park. I'm buying you a TV.' - 12:21PM._Stiles smiled at the text, he knew it was weird for Derek to go out and buy him a TV, but hey he wasn't complaining, he did need one after all, and with the amount of time Derek had been spending at his place – and hopefully, he thought, the amount of time he would be there coming up – Derek could get a few things and have it not be weird.

_'make sure its at least 40 inches, HD, with a sweet surround sound.' - 12:24PM. _He sent the text, smiling at his own joke. The phone in his hands was quickly packed away, turning it to silent, as the lecturer marched into the room, hundreds of students following a few minutes later.

"After seeing this film, you will know what we expect from you." She began as the lights dimmed and the film started up.

The doors of Tisch were rammed as he snaked his way through crowds off fellow students after the long and boring lecture, he kind of wished he had Scott with him as he hopped down the few steps to the street, a huge binder under his arm which had been given out to all the students and detailed what they would be covering over the next year, with articles, reviews, and tips laced between the pages. He missed his best friend, Emily was great, and truthfully was much more a 'friend' than Scott had ever been, it was always Stiles doing the friend stuff, but Scott was his oldest and closest friend, no one could replace him. He wondered absently if he should invite him for a visit, he still hadn't told him about Derek, in fact he hadn't told anyone from home about Derek. As he walked into Washington Square Park, which was located at the epicentre of the NYU buildings, he laughed at the sight of Derek stood by a bench, an enormous brown box at his feet.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Stiles asked as he reached Derek, hoping it _was _what he thought.

"45 inches. HD. Surround sound." Derek gave him a smug smile.

"How did you carry it?" Stiles looked at the thing, his face twisted as he tried to work out how anyone could carry such a thing with their hands.

"Super wolf strength, remember?"

"Oh." He smiled at the realisation that Derek could probably lift a car, a TV was no problem for him. The two of them headed back towards Stiles' apartment, Derek holding the TV over his head as they walked, his breath completely even, face calm; the strangers looks of awe at his strength kind of gave Stiles a thrill, that was _his _man they were admiring. All his. Lugging the thing up the stairs presented no more difficulty for him than carrying it all the way home, Derek was still talking – well, as much as Derek talked – as if there was nothing in his arms. Stiles knew he was strong, but seeing it in action still gave him a thrill.

"You need a tonne more furniture..." Derek mused as he ripped open the box and started setting up the TV on the floor, because there was no stand for it.

"I have money for it, my dad gave me some, I just haven't been to buy anything yet."

"Wanna go?" Derek asked, threading wires from the plug back to the TV.

"What, you wanna go shopping?" Stiles asked in disbelief as he glanced through his binder emblazoned with The Maurice Kanbar Institute of Film, Television, & New Media – Undergraduate Information.

"It's not like we're clothes shopping. Never ask me to do that." Derek gave him a glare.

"Come on then." Grabbing his arm before he changed his mind, Stiles ran out of the door, making sure he had his credit card with him. It wasn't long after they stepped onto the street that Stiles saw a small, boutique type store selling unique furniture across the street. This was New York after all, you get get anything at any hour, anywhere in the city.

It was practically empty when they walked inside the dark, cosy store. The array of furniture was mainly tables and chairs or all manners, the things he needed most.

"How about this?" Stiles grazed his hand across the reddish/purple lacquered surface a Chinese-style kitchen stool. It didn't really go with his apartment, but he liked it.

"Whatever. It's your place." Derek told him as he looked at the price of a glass coffee table on dark wood legs.

"Well," Stiles walked in the opposite direction, trying to seem nonchalant, "you could, you know, stay with me. Until you find a place, or whatever..." he turned to face Derek from across a five foot bookcase made from classic novels all stuck together. "Cos' you haven't really left for like, the past three days or something, so why don't you just stay? There's no point in you paying for your hotel any more if you're gonna be at mine. I mean, I don't want you not to be there, if that's how that sounded. I do, so uh, that's why I'm asking."

"Stiles!" Derek growled, cutting off his ramblings. "Yeah, okay. Thanks." Stiles let out a sigh of relief at Derek's words, and at Derek's smile. He had been wondering all day if he should ask Derek to stay with him. Ideally he would like him to move in, but his instinct told him it was to soon to push him, so the excuse of waiting until he found an apartment seemed appropriate.

"You might not even like living with me, so this is like a test drive I guess." Stiles shrugged, feeling much happier.

"Stiles, I'm sure I'll like living with you." A frown creased Derek's face.

"Yeah but you get up early and I like sleeping late, and you go to the gym but I never do, and you eat properly and I only like toast, and you like crap music," Derek glared at him, a slight smile on his face, "and I like the best music anyone could imagine, and your some sort of clean freak who gets all my clothes up for me – even though you lived in a burnt down house so that's kind of weird – and I'm messy as hell..."

"Stop making issues were there aren't any." Derek said quietly to himself, testing out the Chinese stool Stiles had been looking at earlier while Stiles looked at a dark wood TV stand.

"And I'm probably gonna want Emily round and we'll get drunk, but your wolfiness stops you ever getting drunk..." Stiles continued reeling off his list of why they weren't compatible to live together, not really taking it seriously, just musing out loud as he glanced through more furniture.

"But if we live together," Derek interrupted him, coming behind him as they stood looking at full wall bookshelves, the cashier hidden from them, "we get to do this all day." Stiles' musings – which hadn't even stopped when Derek spoke – were cut off as Derek's lips pressed onto his, their heads instantly changing into the familiar positions they now knew so well, following their tested rhythm, both revelling in the feeling of each other.

"Yeah, that's kind of the best reason to live together." Stiles conceded with a huge smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Over Wednesday and Thursday all the furniture they had bought – which Derek tried to pay for, though Stiles wouldn't let him – arrived at the North Entrance of the building. The deliverymen marvelled at Derek's strength as he carried up bookshelves and drawers all on his own, while it took at least three of them. By Friday Stiles had; a brown leather sofa which almost matched his favourite chair, though it was in much better condition; a dark wooden TV stand with a few drawers and shelves for DVD players and the like; two floor to ceiling bookcases which were mainly filled with DVD's and all the crap knick knacks that had accumulated around the apartment; two of the Chinese-style stools for the breakfast bar; another, taller set of drawers for all the excess clothes Derek had brought from his hotel; and the glass coffee table Derek had been admiring, with a shelf underneath which had somehow filled up with car, motorcycle, and fitness magazines Derek had bought to read while Stiles was at school. Stiles thought the place was coming together nicely, with other pieces that just build up in apartment arriving as his guests did; Emily brought the fairy lights that were laced through the staircase at her parents party when she came to pick up Grayson's tux, they were now twined around the French doors to the bedroom; Max gave him an odd ashtray even though neither of them smoked, as well as bringing posters and pictures that he found interesting for Stiles to have, some of them were pretty abstract and Derek found them plain ugly, but the two were becoming friends and Stiles didn't have the heart to take them down; and the couple across the hall in 6D – when they noticed everything being moved in – decided it was a good opportunity to get rid of the ugly plastic plant the boys mother had given him for Christmas, Stiles hated it too, but he shoved in the corner anyway.

The two of them spent Saturday morning buying a good amount of cutlery, plates, and other kitchen essentials, including a coffee maker. Roaming around the huge store they had wandered into in Midtown, Stiles had thought how nice just doing ordinary things like this was. He was happier than ever that he had left Beacon Hills – maybe if they were there a relationship would never have blossomed between the two, they could have just kept on avoiding the obvious attraction between them, or maybe it would have happened anyway, but have been surrounded by wolf problems; Scott getting his inconsiderate ass into their relationship; Erica and the rest of the pack ruining things for them; his father not approving of Derek. This was so much better. A cab took the two boys and their bags loaded with essentials back downtown to the West Village, where they stopped off a few blocks earlier to visit Stiles' favourite convenience store.

"This stuffs crap." Derek thought out loud as his fingers scanned the row of herbs and spices, falling far from his expectations.

"Huh?" Stiles just shrugged, pulling two bottles of coke down from the shelf while scanning the spirits behind the counter.

"We need to eat. No vodka. Yes food." Derek joked, grabbing a jar of sauce and a tube of spaghetti.

"Oh, can't we have these ones?" Stiles' eyes widened as he pulled down the Superhero spaghetti shapes. "Those ones are so boring..." He looked longingly at the shapes through the clear window on the bag.

"I'm not eating them." Stiles put them into the cart anyway, hiding them under a tub of ice cream he had picked up, making sure Derek hadn't seen and wiping his brow in mock relief when he saw his back to Stiles, grabbing ingredients for salad. "What do I get for my first master cooked meal?" He asked with a grin, glad that Derek was finally cooking for him. He had promised it last week, but they had never gotten around to it, ordering takeaway every night over the last five days, though Derek insisted they get different things, he even splurged on Nobu one night. Stiles would have been happy with pizza or toast.

"We should go get some real bread." Derek picked up the thinly sliced white bread in its plastic bag with a look of disgust, throwing it back onto the shelf.

"You're a food snob, you know." Stiles told him through a mouth full of Maltesers, which he had already finished, putting the empty wrapper in the cart to pay for.

"And you're a slob." The corners of Derek's mouth raised into one of his half smiles as he watched Stiles, leaning against the cart, stuffing his face, a little chocolate smeared on his lips. Leaning over, he gently kissed the section with chocolate on it, tasting the indescribable mix of chocolate and _Stiles_, the best thing he had ever tasted.

"Seriously though?" Stiles asked again a few minutes later as they trudged out of the store into the humid evening air of the city.

"I dunno yet." Derek replied as he scanned the street, looking for any store that actually looked like it sold distant food, spotting one after a few minutes on the other side of the street.

"Well you bought enough food to feed an army so I suppose we have some choice." Stiles held up the five bags he was struggling to carry in explanation, screwing up his eyes in frustration as he put them down for a second and heard the clink of a glass bottle, hoping the vodka hadn't smashed.

"I eat a lot." Derek looked over at Stiles, wondering if he should take some bags. He already had all the kitchen stuff they had bought earlier, the coffee maker wedged under his arm, as well as the heaviest bags of shopping.

"Don't even think about taking these, wolf man. I'm strong too." Taking a huge gulp of air Stiles picked up his bags again and practically ran across the street, all the way down to the store Derek had pointed out, sighing in relief when he got there and could drop his bags outside for a second, waiting for Derek.

"Weak ass." Derek muttered with a smirk as he walked past Stiles' panting frame, pushing open the door of the store with his ass, giving Stiles an exaggerated mocking bottom lip before he disappeared inside. Laughing to himself, Stiles decided to not bother going inside, instead massaging his aching arms as he sat on the step of the closed down store next door, waiting for Derek.

"Race ya'." Stiles shouted as he saw Derek emerging, setting off down the street with his bags before Derek had even worked his way out of the door, the bags in his left hand having been caught when he pulled it open. Stiles was panting by the time he got to the crossing, his arms spread wide and back hunched a little - it was the only half decent stance for carrying such heavy groceries while running, even if it did make him look like some sort of deformed bat creature.

"You knew I'd win." Derek threw him a cocky smile as he jogged by at a moderate pace, his breath even. By the time Stiles reached the building Derek was stood on the step, having already deposited his bags in the apartment, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Jesus." Stiles panted, "I need a freaking inhaler or something." He managed to spit out between breaths, taking in huge gulps of air. "Never will I try," another huge gulp of air was needed, "to race with you," another gulp, "again."

Derek let out a bark of laugher, "Come on." Taking the bags from Stiles' hands, who attempted to push him away to try and prove he was at least strong enough to get upstairs, but soon gave up as Derek pried them from his fingers, Derek held open the door as Stiles practically crawled back to the apartment, throwing himself down on the couch.

"I'll see you in hell. I'm too weak to go on." A hand was thrown across his face, the other trailing on the floor in mock dramatics. "Please doctor, don't tell my wife!"

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked with a grin, grabbing the remote and turning the news on as he started unpacking the groceries, scowling when he saw some of the unhealthy and sometimes just childish crap Stiles had snuck into the cart.

"Why have you bought this crap..." Derek said slowly, turning over a pack of candy cigarettes, the box whacking off the top of Stiles' head as he threw them across the room.

"Oh, you've cured me!" Stiles rose from the sofa, a grin on his face. "My magic cigarettes!" He held the pack up to the overhead light as if it was the Holy Grail, pulling one out and sticking it between his fingers, taking long drags of nothing. Noticing Derek's aviators on the coffee table he slipped them on, resting his chin on the back of the sofa as he leaned over to look at Derek.

"I'm Derek." An imaginary stream of smoke left his lips. "I drive a motorcycle and want to rip peoples – well, a very handsome boy named Stiles Stillinksi's – throat out." Dramatic pause. "With my teeth." Attempting fake smoke rings but managing to look more like a fish, he began laughing to himself, rolling back onto the front of the sofa and chewing the stick.

"I don't even smoke." Derek shook his head and laughed, he couldn't help but like Stiles all the more when he goofed off like this – which he did often – it was just so different from how he had lived his own life over the past few years, on his quest for vengeance for his family.

"Are you gonna help?" He asked, trying out is best wolf scowl on Stiles, who almost took him seriously.

"Nah, you're the housewife, remember?" Stiles gave him a quick smile before settling back onto the sofa, hands behind his head, glancing at Derek every now and then with as cocky a smirk on his face as Derek had when he ran past him outside.

Stiles and Derek had been in a comfortable silence for over an hour, the only sounds being Derek's own comments to himself as he attempted to remember the recipe his sister taught him for really great spaghetti, and the sounds of the Criminal Minds from the 45" TV, Stiles sat cross-legged on the floor before it, chewing slowly on another candy cigarette.

"No, Cheryl! Don't go!" He shouted, chewing on the stick faster as the character headed to drop off ransom money. "Hey Derek, I've got all this figured out!" Stiles looked very pleased with himself a he shouted over his shoulder. "You see, this creep took her sister but he wants this one too, or maybe he doesn't even want the other one, but they ain't getting the sister back if she goes, OH! Yeah!" Jumping up with a yelp of pride, Stiles danced across the room.

"You were right?" The look of horror that crossed Stiles' face shocked Derek for a second,

"Was I _right?! _Of course I was _right_. I'm always right with this stuff."

"Looks kind of the same as Bones." Derek glanced up at the screen and shrugged. He had been watching part of the episode as he chopped up the herbs he had bought from the better store Stiles had raced him too, finally remembering the special mixture Laura had taught him.

"I guess." Stiles stuck a finger into the sauce that Derek had taken off the pan a few minutes ago. "Pretty good! Ow!" He shouted as Derek's hand collided lightly with the side of his head, a little sauce dripping out of his mouth from the attack.

"You haven't even washed your hands." Derek admonished, giving him another playful slap as he went back for more.

"I know my rights you know, son of a cop here! I could have you arrested for assault."

"You'd miss me too much." Derek said before he could stop himself, feeling a little embarrassed. _What on earth happens to me around this guy?_

"Oh damn, Gideon is good." He had turned the stool he was now sat on, at the island, around slightly so he could watch TV, absently picking at everything Derek placed on the island; the pasta; the salad; the bread; the sauce.

"Get off!" Derek shouted, slapping Stiles' hand away from the salad for the third time.

"Why, we're having it now anyway!"

"You have salad last, idiot." Derek raised his eyebrows, wondering why everyone he knew seemed to have their salad before dinner.

"Uh – are you high? Salad is a starter."

"This is the Italian way."

"Yeah cos' you know so much about Italy." Stiles grinned, wondering absently if Derek had some Sicilian roots or something. The white skin didn't really suggest so.

"I spent some time there." Stiles eyes widened in amusement.

"You wore jeans and a leather jacket to the beach?" He asked as he grabbed some knives, forks, and spoons from the drawer next to the fridge.

"Shut up and eat." The two of them looked at each other for a second, laughing before moving in for a quick kiss. Derek thought silently as he ate, only half listening to Stiles' ramblings about how good the food was, his head spinning round every now and then to watch Criminal Minds, arms occasionally flying into the air when he guessed something right. It was all so... _normal_, and, surprisingly, Derek liked it. Sure, sometimes he wanted to shift and go running in the woods, but there was always Central Park.

"You could be a chef or something, you know? Oh yeah whatever-your-name-is bad ass cop woman, get him!"

"Well it doesn't mean much from you," Derek nudged him slightly with his elbow, "all you eat is toast."

"Yeah, shouldn't underestimate you!" Stiles shouted at the screen, pushing his clear plate away. "I happen to be an amazing judge of food and have had take out many, many times. I just can't be bothered learning to cook."

"Well I hope you like something new. Never had salad after spaghetti..." Derek grumbled, shaking his head again as he took salad from the large, wooden bowl and piled it onto their plates.

"It's actually a nice mix, I dunno, it makes my stomach feel more relaxed or something." Stiles gave him a huge smile, knowing their was salad stuck in his teeth, causing Derek to splutter out a piece of lettuce through his laughter.

"What's up with you tonight?" Derek laughed, pushing Stiles a little, he wouldn't stop with the salad smile.

"Nothing." Closing his mouth and licking his teeth clean, they both went back to work on their meal. Another episode of Criminal Minds followed, Stiles never liked watching only one episode, if he started something he just wanted to watch it all day every day until he couldn't possibly watch any more.

"Are you awake?" Derek asked Stiles lightly, who was nestled with his head on Derek's shoulder, an arm thrown casually across the wolfs midriff.

"Mm. Sh, I wanna see them catch this guy, scary as hell." Stiles eyes were heavy, his stomach full, his body relaxed now it was back in Derek's grasp.

"I don't get it..." Derek whispered as they watched a ghostly black figure approaching a families house as they put their children to sleep.

"If we ever have kids we're locking the house up with the best stuff ever, we'll have seventeen dogs, and you'll patrol the perimeter in wolf form as I sleep, coming back just before noon so I get to wake up in your arms." Stiles' wasn't really aware of what he was saying, more just thinking out loud, but he stopped when he felt Derek tensing next to him. "Shit – I mean, you know, theoretically!" He looked up at Derek, eyes now wide, hoping he wasn't going to freak out or something.

"Just -" Derek took a deep breath before his body relaxed. The reaction made him uneasy, he wasn't even sure why, he knew what Stiles was like with talking out loud, knew he wasn't serious.

"Shh." Stiles patted his head mockingly, before leaning in and kissing him long and deep, their bodies pressing closer together, one of Derek's legs draped over Stiles', slowly working its way up till his thigh was by Stiles' ass, both of them now laid on their sides on the sofa.

"Don't you want to finish this episode?" Derek asked between kisses, Stiles' face clasped between his hands, fingers running over the short hair, hands rubbing against the strong bones in his face beneath the smooth, clear skin. A massive grin split Stiles' face at his question.

"Nope. I'd rather have you." They continued kissing, Stiles' fingers lifting Derek's shirt off, as Derek undid Stiles' fly, "You know when you asked me what was up?" He just managed to get the question in before Derek's lips were on him again.

"Mm?" Derek pushed Stiles back, sitting astride him, now shirtless, his hands pulling Stiles' shirt off too.

"Well, just this." The last word came out in a gasp as Derek freed Stiles arousal, his own jeans sliding to the floor a few seconds later. "Just you, being here, cooking, I dunno." Stiles flipped Derek over, grinning at the older mans shock and pleasure as Stiles took the lead, "Just us, being together. That's what's up. What made me so happy." A grin spread across Derek's face at Stiles' revelation, never remembering himself feeling so happy, and not because of what Stiles' mouth was doing...

Though lets be honest, that was part of it


	13. Chapter 13

Sunday morning, and Stiles woke up without Derek by his side. He laid their in the noon light streaming through the bedroom window, panicking slightly, wondering where Derek was. Padding naked into the kitchen, his eyes screwed up against the light, he let off a sigh of relief, seeing the note on the fridge.

_'gone to the gym and for a jog. Back at one.' _Stiles absently wondered how long ago Derek left. It definitely took a lot of work to have such muscle definition, and now that he wasn't running around killing and maiming people he would have to get in even longer workouts, though he did have Stiles to 'work out' with at home. Flicking the news on and inserting two dry pieces of the baguette Derek had bought yesterday into the toaster, Stiles got himself cleaned up for the morning before flopping down, a pair of jogging bottoms now covering his modesty, onto the couch and just relaxing. He needed this extra day off school, last week had killed him with all the work they had been doing. The lessons were boring, he had been right, but they were still pretty exhausting. The amount of information he had to absorb in the past week was ridiculous to him, though Max, who had fast became a friend of Stiles', thought that it was easy.

"Don't go home my little darling..." He hummed absently to himself twenty minutes later, quickly becoming bored of the news, his mind wandering. Pulling his iPhone out of the wire it was attached too, charging, he sent off a quick text to Emily.

_'want to go around the park or something?' - 12:21PM. _Stiles was desperate for Derek to come home, but the more he thought about it the more he began to believe he should kind of make the guy miss him a little, it was good spending so much time together, but maybe they needed their little separations, it would make their time together mean that much more.

_'meet in 20 at my apartment?' - 12:29PM. _Emily's apartment was still an enigma to him, so reading that she was actually inviting him round was quite exciting.

Emily lived in an enormous expanse of steel and glass on the corner of an extremely busy street just a few blocks away from Stiles. She had already told him what to do, so he buzzed himself in with the permission of Emily, who had given him the key code, and headed up to the seventh floor.

"You're here!" She cried as she emerged into the hallways, having seen Stiles pixelated figure heading towards her on the security system her father had insisted upon.

"Morning, perky." Stiles said with a grin as he followed her through the overly large single door and into her own domain.

The apartment was at least three times as big as Stiles', but still managed to maintain a degree of intimacy with the dark colours, abundance of lamps and rugs, and homey personal items that were strewn all over the place. A floating staircase with no rails crept up one wall, leading to the one and only bedroom, while the main room was very similar to Stiles', though much larger, with two couches that could seat three surrounding two sides, the other occupied by a comfortable recliner done up in Missoni fabric, two coffee tables on either side laden with books, empty coffee cups from the cart downstairs, and overflowing ashtrays and magazines. They all faced the TV, a small 20" thing which was resting on the base of the fireplace, all manner of small plants placed haphazardly around it, giving a look of a tropical garden to that side of the room. A massive zebra print rug – Emily told everyone it was ironic – dominated the ground under the spindly coffee table from a Lower East Side antiques store, while a side table behind the north facing couch contained the stereo, the white iPod wire already occupied by Emily's phone, speakers crooning out The Shangri-Las.

"Nice place." Stiles nodded and smiled as he took the place in.

"Oh yeah, thanks." She headed over to the breakfast bar, which was located to the left of the short hall from the front door, while the living room was on the right, all open plan. "You want a drink? I'm having a Long Island Ice Tea." A giggle escaped her red painted lips as she poured without waiting for a response.

"What's this?" Stiles ran his fingers over a projector that was set up on the island, its lens throwing a dull blue onto the slightly whiter space above the fireplace, where a painting of Emily as a girl – commissioned and insisted upon by her mother – used to hang.

"Oh, someone in my Interactive Media class told me a projector was the _only _way to watch movies, and gave me this." Her gaze of disdain at the thing told Stiles all he needed to know.

"The people in some of our classes kind of make me feel sick." He laughed, sipping the Ice Tea, watching as Emily began pulling back the huge, dark purple drapes behind the Missoni recliner, revealing floor to ceiling glass behind, The Empire State Building and all of Midtown visible in front of them.

"Tell me about it. I need to get dressed, come on." Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table she headed upstairs, tiny white legs looking frail in her sleeping shorts, her red t shirt falling down and revealing one bony shoulder.

"Jesus, how many clothes?" Stiles asked in shock as he left a short hallway, heading left into the dressing room, the right side of the hall leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

"I have a problem." Emily agreed with a shrug, putting down her drink after a long sip through the straw and lighting up a cigarette as she flicked through the racks of clothes. "You don't seem like the kind of gay who can help me with fashion, my luck." Her eyes roved over Stiles' plain black t shirt, Derek's hoody, jeans and white socks with a sigh.

"I'm fashionable!" He protested with a smile.

"Who makes this?" She held up a lace creation, smirking at Stiles look of confusion. "You know, I might wear this." Slipping out of the room she emerged a few seconds later, moving to

admire herself in the mirror.

"Uh – a little fancy isn't it?" Stiles asked as he stared, wide eyed, at the knee length, black lace, Dolce & Gabanna dress, the sleeves ending a few inches before they reached her wrists, her body just the right size for such a dress.

"I guess, but who cares?" She left the thing on as she began rummaging through another wardrobe, this one locked with a key code and piled with fur.

"It's not cold?" Stiles laughed, sipping his drink.

"I don't really get warm, and I just love fur." She gave him a shrug and a huge smile as she slipped her arms into the Simonetta Ravizza short mink coat. "Ooh!" She shrieked excitedly as she wondered what shoes to wear.

"What?"

"Pass me those YSL booties." Ash fell to the floor from her freshly lit cigarette as she clicked her fingers at Stiles.

"Huh?"

"Oh, god." Leaning over him she grabbed a pair of black leather and suede booties from the shoe closet behind his chair, giving herself another three inches as she teetered on the wedge. "Needs tights." She said, more to herself, as Stiles peered into her closet, flicking through the multide of dark garments. Everything was black, grey, dark blue, maroon, white, or the deepest green.

"Where are we gonna go then?" Stiles asked as his fingers flinched away from a studded mini dress.

"I dunno, I need some lunch. How are you and Derek by the way?" Her exquisite face crunched up as she frowned at her reflection, kicking the booties off, flinging the mink down, and letting the Dolce fall to the ground.

"We're great!" Stiles perked up at her question, getting bored of clothes.

"Hows the sex?" She asked with a smirk at his reflection in her mirror as she threw a loose Alexander McQueen t-shirt over her head, nodding before she moved to another wardrobe loaded with pants.

"Uh – sex..." Stiles looked down awkwardly.

"Don't tell me you haven't?" Her eyes were wide as she turned to him, the leather pants she was holding dropping to her side.

"Well, I guess we're going slow or something..." Stiles didn't dare look up.

"Oh no. Bad sign." She admired the leather pants with the oversized t shirt in the mirror, nodding to herself.

"Well, I want too..." Stiles thought about how much he had been trying to get Derek to do it without actually asking him outright, he always arched his back when they kissed or when he went down on Derek, trying to tempt him. He knew it was working, Derek was becoming hornier and hornier every time they went to bed, but they never progressed beyond oral before they fell asleep in each others arms. "I mean it's still amazing, but I dunno – we should have sex, right?"

"Right." Emily put the mink back on, liking the contrast of uptown and downtown, before slipping back into the Yves Saint Laurent booties, grabbing an oversized YSL muse in black patent leather, slipping her cigarettes inside. "You two have been living together for like two weeks or something. If you weren't living together then maybe not having sex wouldn't be weird, but it kind of is. Why do you even live together anyway?"

"He has nowhere to stay, I want him there, he wants to be there. That's it I guess, we just fell into it." He followed her downstairs, slipping his Converse on as she pulled the phone out of the stereo and popped it into the bag, followed by her Chanel wallet.

"Well, maybe you should do some sort of romantic night for him or something, you know, make it special."

"Huh? I dunno how to do that." Stiles had seen plenty of bad romance movies, but he didn't want some sort of cliché losing his virginity in the candle light.

"Well how did you make your other times special, or was it just a quickie in a car kind of thing?" Laughing, she grabbed Stiles' hand and pulled him into the hallway, locking her apartment before they headed to the elevators.

"I told you -" Stiles wished she would just get the hint, "- I _don't _know how to do that. Or... you know!"

"Oh!" Her eyes widened as they headed into the elevator. "Ohh!" Realisation dawned on her pale face, covering her shocked pupils with black L.G.R sunglasses.

"Don't rub it in."

"No, I just thought you would have. You know, you're pretty cute Stiles. If you were straight I'd definitely do you." She gave him a wide, joking smile, cheering him up slightly.

"Yeah well, I think I should just ask why we haven't yet." Thoughts that Derek didn't want him had been creeping to the front of his mind for the past week. Wasn't sex the next logical step after oral? It was too confusing – it was obvious Derek wanted him, they spent practically all their free time together, Derek only ever going to the gym when he knew Stiles was going to be in bed till noon or he was at school, Stiles usually inviting Derek to NYU for lunch with him and Max, less so with Emily lately now that she was interested in a new boy and spent more time with him.

"No! That's so boring." Emily held the door open as they headed out onto the busy street, walking towards Midtown.

"Well what else would I do?" Genuinely interested, his turned his head to her as she cocked her own to the side, trying to formulate a plan.

"My first time was a disaster, so lets ignore that. But my second time the guy did this romantic thing in the park..."

"Are you a naturist?" Stiles grinned.

"Shut up! We went back to mine when my parents were in Rhode Island at our summer cottage, it was really romantic actually, I got back and there was like, candles and stuff laid out, romantic music on. It was cheesy, but everyone does it like that for a reason."

"Why am I so lame?" He asked, looking down at his feet as they walked the few blocks to the restaurant, both thinking of the perfect first night scenario.

"Two please. Thanks Rich." Emily gave the waiter, whom she was friendly with, a slight smile as they settled down at a two seater outside, slightly raised from the street and protected by a low row of hedges in wooden pots.

"You should do something different then, that like, I dunno, shows your personality or something?"

"What am I supposed to do take him to a room full of Adderall and ADHD leaflets full of toast and coffee?" Stiles grinned across at her sheepishly. He was becoming more and more despondent as he dwelled on how to make his and Derek's first time perfect. An easy, comfortable silence fell over the two teenagers as they both tried to come up with a better idea than the other.

"Okay, I've got it." Patting her lips with the napkin before scooping a small spoonful of salad into her mouth and taking a sip of water, Emily lowered her sunglasses. It must be a pretty good idea.

"Well hit me with it quick because I have none." Cutting a smell piece from the extra large ham pizza he was eating, Stiles moved it slowly around the plate, his mind wandering again.

"Rooftop terrace looking over downtown, fairy lights on the walls or something, a mattress set up on the floor with a meal and some wine, bring the iPod up for some romantic music." She looked extremely pleased with herself, eyebrows raised and a smile on her lips, waiting for his praise.

"It sounds great." Emily's face lit up. "Except for the rooftop part. What if it rains? Plus everyone will hear!" Stiles slammed the knife and fork down, a few patrons glancing up nervously.

"For fuck sake." Sunglasses hid Emily's eyes once more as she began slowly finishing off her food, upset her idea hadn't gotten more praise.

"It's too much – seriously. That's not me at all, and it's definitely not Derek. He always says I'm childish." Stiles started smiling as soon as he thought of Derek joking with him. _What was the man doing to him?_

"Childish..." Emily mused, hidden eyes narrowed.

"Mm."

"I've got a perfect idea." White teeth appeared as her mouth broke into a smile, not flinching as Stiles looked up in interest, his own smile coming forward as he realised that this may be the one.


End file.
